Stand and Deliver [Slaine]

[Aeirn Vryndîr]

Aeirn looked back suddenly as the newly raised horse stampeded away, taking the cart with, now revealing the still whimpering man to him. He gave a sharp whistle, as the horse dashed off into the woods and out of sight, signalling for something to happen; After a few brief moments, there was a ruckus in the distance, the chilling, reanimated shrieks of a horse and distant shouts before all went quiet, a dull silence permeating the area. Aeirn quickly rounded on the alleged practitioner of the unnatural arts, a cold, determined look plastered on his features. This would end now, he knew what this man did, he knew how he disrupted everything, the balance of nature, the coupling of life and death, the cycle that kept the world turning and it filled him with anger and disgust. Necromancy was the reason the world had fallen into darkness, necromancy was the reason that his people were now such an uncommon sight in the world and for those reason, the man had to die.

"No- no, no no... please, don't kill me... please..." the man exclaimed, quietly whimpering, his arms shielding his face as the elf drew closer and closer.

"Your kind is a stain on the world, live no- he was cut off suddenly as a large amount of magical energy collided with him, pushing Aeirn completely off his feet and flying backwards into the treeline and out of sight, he cackled lowly, lungs pushing a harsh, sickly cough from his throat, seemingly having used the time to gather his power. Now pushing himself up to his full height, staff at his side, it seemed he was perhaps not the frail, elderly man he was masquerading as. His voice boomed out toward any who would hear... "You cannot bring death to one who has such mastery over it, fool! a malevolent cackle once more cascading around the area. He exhaled, moving himself forward with a slight limp, as if waiting for Aeirn to strike again, he had seemingly not realised Slaine had been watching all this time.

It seemed perhaps this would take a little longer, than had first been thought.

[Slaine]

The cart plowing deep ruts into the packed earth before being caught by two trees and shorn into pieces after a brief struggle by the undead gelding that knew only how to obey. As parts of the wagon came away, much was left behind including two of the four wheels and a trail of goods that littered the roadside and deep into the brush line. Candles that burn bright burn fast - Slaine had watched with fascination the utter chaos that ensued following the horse's reanimation - a creature with no fear of pain or death did not hesitate or falter, it did not hold back, nor did it last long. The cries of the undead were like nails on a chalkboard to her, sure to stick with her long after they had faded. There were just some things you didn't hear in a home in southern Fellsgrad, zombie horses being slaughtered was one of them.

Aeirn was quick to avoid the upended cart, though Slaine wasn't entirely surprised given what she had already observed of the elf. As well, he was driven, and despite how convincing the old man's cowering might have been, he advanced, a sure and steady executioner... until he wasn't. Alarm rang in her thoughts as she stood, momentarily frozen, no longer looking for the tall elf among the trees. Her attention focused instead on the necromancer, no longer feeble or pitiable, but strong. Where at first she had the briefest whiff of grave-dirt in his presence, the air now reeked of death an ozone, still singed by the violent blast of energy. Goose-flesh raised across her arms, the hair along her nape standing on end as the villain advanced, crowing his early victory, almost goading the ranger to have another go. Mad or confident, he inspired something in her that was not revulsion, or even anxiety, but rather envy. Knowledge was a wizard's bread and butter, the air they breathed, the shelter they took - few necromancers started out dabbling with the dead and even Bhelest did not begin by dabbling with corpses and old bones - Slaine imagined he must have had quite a bit of it.

Already in the habit of it, she decided to continue with the trend of not fully thinking her plans through, quietly padding behind the necromancer as she took the staff into both hands, watching the hitch in his step as he moved forward. Wetting her lips, she cranked the staff back like a bat and in no form or fashion that Nigel would have approved of, swung for just below the knee of the favored leg with violent intent.

[Aeirn Vryndîr]

Aeirn grunted, eyes peering up at sky which was obscured by thick woodland treetops, he ached, having landed with a crash, how had this happened? One minute he was about to end the miserable wretch's life, the next he had been blown off his feet and had landed here. He sneered a little, pulling a broken twig from under him and tossing it off to the side and into the dirt; he frowned, what of that girl? Was she still around? Was she in danger now he wasn't upon the road any longer? He grunted in discomfort as he rose to his feet with still enough grace to make it seem like he was still an elf that hadn't just collided with the ground. Shrugging off what pain he could he released his bow from his back, soundlessly making his way back toward the road.

The necromancer cried out in a mix of suprise and pain as he was struck by a stray staff! He buckled and turned his head to find out who his attacker was, expecting to be an elf- what he found was a small, thin looking woman brandishing a staff, hands white from gripping it as hard as she could. Enraged, he swing wildly with his own staff, purple sparks emanating from the head as it flailed in the air.

"Foolish girl! With the elven half-wit are you?!" he sneered to her, having regained his legs and pushed himself to a standing position again. He fully turned to face her, a wicked grin on his thin, pallid lips. "Come child, you shall serve me well in death..." his voice now taking on a softer, more fatherly tone as he slowly moved toward her, seemingly having something planned.

Aeirn finally made it to the treeline again, having remained unseen and unheard, brown eyes peering out of a bush toward the two, he sneered, arrow coming from the quiver on his back nocking it; he drew back on the bow string... and...

[Slaine]

Why did I do that? Slaine's mind was a screaming nuisance the moment the shock of impact rattled through the staff and up her bony arms. She was at best average and average people did not deliver killing blows. Slaine was very willing to wager that average people did not often find themselves involved in fights, the consequences of which would be fatal. Though Slaine did not like to be considered average by any stretch, she was finding it difficult to muster up the mental fortitude to embrace the title of man hunter. To kill seemed a terrible thing in the books, though her own moral compass spun a questionable "maybe?" on the subject. Was she ready to end a life?

As the necromancer turned on her and swung she batted his staff away, stepping out of the shower of purple sparks with a hiss not of fear or alarm, but rather annoyance. Her brow had knit, expression turning to one of deep concentration as she weighed the value of innocence and if this was really worth it? How dare he interrupt her? There is a spark of rage, but it does not compel her to bloodlust - if she is to put a man down it will need to be quick- "Would you mind pissing off?" Slaine snarled, body arching away from him as he rose to his feet once again and she fell back several paces as the man's tone took an disconcertingly warm tone.

Slowly, she began to better understand the concept of fear, feeling her skin crawl. Serve him? The only thing Slaine planned to be serving was "these hands", all of her might and will rearing up inside of her as she reached into her pocket and drew out a handful rose petals, crushing them within her fist, her off hand clutching the staff firmly as she channeled the compulsion of sleep through the conductive core, her spell working so well that the necromancer toppled only a few seconds after she had cast combative magic. Sidling out of the way of the slumping body she noted with a slight pang of irritation that her sleep spell hadn't done shit, but rather the arrow that had entered through the back of his skull and exited through the left eye, a thin trickle of blood tracking like tears across his weathered cheek.. "You shot him." She announced in a tone that sounded more like an accusation than a congratulations, in a similar vein to "you ate my sandwich I left in the lunchroom fridge". The "asshole" was silent.

[Aeirn Vryndîr]

And what a delicious sandwich it was! The arrow had hit his mark dead on, Aeirn watched as the man crumpled, dropping to the floor like a sack of bricks, rather unceremoniously. he exhaled closing his eyes for a moment as he muttered a small prayer under his breath, a hand idly fondling the bone necklace that rested against leather. He fitted his bow back over his shoulder, exhaling, appearing with a few quiet steps out of the treeline into the middle of the road, eyeing the now dead man and Slaine. "Indeed, and you should thank me, I doubt you wished to pass today, hm?" he quipped, crouched down over the necromancer's limp corpse, a hand reaching out to relevantly close his eyes. "Pass into sleep... never to reawaken in this world..." he muttered softly, as if reciting yet another prayer.

He exhaled and gazed up at her, brow raised in curious thought. "Sorry, for what it's worth- clearly you weren't the one we sought." giving her a small, graceful nod, knowing it perhaps wasn't something he could simply fix with a mere 'sorry', yet he wasn't exactly one to humble himself when the need arose. "I'm Aeirn." he said with the same rugged tone that forever mixed his otherwise soft way of speaking.

Just then, figures emerged from the treeline, five of them, all elves, all dressed in similiar equipment to him, a mix of hardened wood and leather, a rather Kerasokan style, but one that none the less made you feel just a little bit impressive. The group quietly spoke to each other as they watched the pair. One of them, a small woman... in comparison to Aiern but still towering above Slaine, the little fae hybrid she was.

"The beast has passed, we'll have a look to see what items he had with him." she said, jerking a thumb over to the spilled contents of the long destroyed cart; Aeirn nodded firmly, giving the go ahead. "These are my men- we're hunters of a sort, mercenaries if you will..." he tilted his head a little, arms folding across his chest, as his group quickly traipsed off to search the wreckage, leaving Slaine and himself alone once more to speak.

[Slaine]

"I did, but you wouldn't let me," Slaine snipped, watching the elf approached, brushing a hand across the necromancer's face as he murmured a prayer, watching with bright fascination the display of reverence and care that somehow made the act of murder more agreeable, though she doubted he did so out of respect to his prey. With a thump the end of the staff struck a shred of the road that remained unturned, the woman leaning on it bodily as she reached up to idly scratch her nose, smearing a freckling of blood across the skin as the elf offered her some means of apology, sincere but not entirely satisfying. She frowned at the finger tips that came away bloody, regarding his introduction with a measure of mistrust reasonable for someone who only recently had been at risk of ending up on the business end of that arrow herself. Peering down her nose at him, she weighed his words but did not speak, instead turning her attention toward the squad of dress-alikes, each massive and striking as the ranger, putting a face to the exacting hail of arrows that had flown at the start of this mess.

"Bounty hunters, yeah - I know the type." She nodded along, now patting through her pockets as she searched for something, her brow once again furrowed in thought. She paused, hands lingering in her pockets as she cast a glance between the six of them, worrying the corner of her upper lip between her teeth some. She still wasn't entirely positive that they were not a threat to her, and though she had nothing to hide she was not entirely relieved of her concerns. Cautiously she drew a small mirror encased in leather, lifting the cover back and raising it to inspect her face, daubing at the blood. "Slaine Eramus - it looked like he hit you pretty hard." Lowering the mirror she fixed him with a look of concern as his men filed away to their duties. "Whatever he was in the works of conjuring up for you, it didn't sound entirely friendly. I saved your life." She did not deliver this as a question, but a statement thick with worry and duty, reminding her of how she recalled Nigel sounding when he spoke of his job. It always sounded exceptionally romantic to be a hero, but best of all, it rendered social debt, the sort of thing that Aeirn had been racking up in spades since he first accosted her.

In the midst of her appearing deeply distraught about the potential injuries wrought on the man she had "saved" (it wasn't technically a lie, was it?) one of the men arrived from the brush line carrying a handful of books, leather bound and all varying sizes, supplies thrown from the cart in its thrashing, one of them small and slim and marked by a length of ribbon. Slaine turned, looking at the stack of books enviously, tucking the mirror into her pocket and patting herself down... only to realize her book had been abandoned in the woods. Looking again at the stack of books, her plans began to come apart at the seams, her attention caught by the length of pretty satin ribbon that stuck out from the pages. "The way I see it," she began, turning toward him as she continued, confident and well-spoken despite her desperate need not to be found out. "You owe me something - I'm a researcher, you see. By studying magic we better learn to control it, to disarm it. You kill them where they crop up, I do 'preventative' care, so to speak."

[Aeirn Vryndîr]

He had indeed taken quite a back tumble as he'd landed somewhere in the woods, though it seemingly wasn't enough to keep him down, his back having taken much of the shock, the grizzled veteran more than capable of shrugging off a few scrapes and bruises, at least in the heat of the moment. But wait... owe her? Nonsense. That was the only thing running through his mind, utter nonsense, had it not been for him, she'd have been waking up just like the horse, he scoffed and offered her a small grin, head tilting upwards smugly. "Did you now? The way I see it, I saved -your- life but- mrm... walk with me." the request coming as more of a command than anything as he paced off toward the scattered remains of the cart.

"What brings you out this way however... Slaine Eramus? You don't look the adventuring sort..." giving her a suspicious eye to confirm what he thought of her. Leaning down he began rummaging through the various broken crates and boxes, equipment for alchemy, various plants and old tomes comprised a lot of it, clothes and personal effects the rest. He exhaled, frowning a little, quickly calling over to his compatriot with the book, words understandably being Elvish.

The man quickly jogged over, handing the stack to him as Aeirn idly went about going through them; the covers ranging from 'Magic - A Theory of' to 'Advanced Alchemy.' but... wait, there was one that seemed out of place. 'Elven Midnight' he frowned a little, curiously opening the page to where the silk ribbon had been placed, scanning a few of the lines as a shit-eating grin formed on his lips, now recalling where he'd seen it before. He looked down at Slaine, realisation causing him to laugh suddenly. "This is... yours I believe. A fanciful read by the looks of it, though escapism often is."

He coughed a little turning the page as he read aloud. "His breath quickened against her neck, the passionate ecstasy enveloping them both in lustful heat, Rose could not quite believe her luck, he felt so wonderful, so different, surely he was a true specimen of elven kind... and he was all hers for tonight."

It seemed perhaps, he found this a lot funnier than Slaine most assuredly did, and he clearly wasn't above teasing her about such material, especially in front of of his comrades who smirked just as he did.

[Slaine]

"Yes, it looks that way from your perspective. I was right behind him - it's called a tactical distraction." With her hands braced on her hips and her stance wide, she frowned up at him, quite insistent as she followed him, hoping to convince the ranger before her lost book could be taken inventory of from among the wreckage. Glancing about she found herself picking her way after him, casting a longing look at the stack of books. So close, yet so far...

Turning forward she jogged to keep up with his long strides, glaring daggers at the back of him. "What does an "adventuring sort" look like exactly?" Slaine demanded curtly, jerking her chin up as she reached to adjust her hat, grateful when he came to a stop, dropping to knee. She drew to a halt, trying hard not to look too interested in anything specific though she could hear rummaging behind her, the familiar sound of books being thumbed through and closed again, set aside in stacks. Dread curled up in her belly as she opened her mouth to speak, her voice soft and somewhat uncertain as he turned to look her over. "Ceci-" Her voice cracked, and she pressed her nose into the crook of her elbow, coughing. Running just didn't agree with her. "Cecilia didn't look like an adventuring sort either, and she saved the entire world.." She did her best to appear convincingly certain. "So I'd think it's best not to judge too harshly."

The axe fell as the book arrived, her stomach dropping as he thumbed it open and read, her gaze stubbornly locked onto him, though she chose not to answer, her lips curling into a stern frown, baleful gaze boring into him. Her reception of the live-reading was not lacking for warmth, however - her cheeks and ears now blazing red, she balled her fist, slamming the staff into the dirt as the blistering heat of rage curdling her thoughts. Stiffly, she extended an arm, her hand open as she demanded the book back mutely, too mortified to speak. Perhaps she had written off this "killing" thing too easily.

[Aeirn Vryndîr]

Ceclia? He hadn't heard that name is a long time; in many ways he owed her much, and true, he perhaps had not been the adventuring 'type', so his impressions may have been untrue; though he simply shrugged, leaving the topic for now. Aiern wasn't a cruel person generally speaking and it was clear by her look that his little stunt had not gone down well with her, not at all, so he snapped the leather bound book shut with a 'snap' and passed it curtly to her. "Apologies- merely a bit of fun, you understand I'm sure." he gave a look to his fellows, shaking his head subtly, as they hurriedly returned to scavenging. He exhaled, gesturing to the an open crate, offering her the contents for her to peruse it would have seemed. "Take what you wish, there's nothing in there of use to us."

He himself went about looking for anything of interest, he pocketed a few items, what looked to be a small stone, a pendant of some kind and a small pouch filled with something, Aeirn peered up and down the road, there didn't seem to be many other travelers coming along this stretch, a stroke of luck to be sure, though admittedly, Aeirn knew, that ever since the train line had been built, there wasn't much reason to travel over the Slyscera mountains, it was treacherous, cold and bandits and creatures roamed, preying on an unfortunate lone wanderer, yes, the train was indeed how most people traveled into Ninraih these days and honesty, Aiern felt a pang of nostalgic sadness at the fact, what good was nature when you merely watched it from behind some glass, hurtling along at untold speeds, no... he preferred, what was now, the old fashioned way, it took longer, sure but to be with nature was truly as marvel and worth more to him any haste or speed ever could be.

Sighing he turned, wandering over to Slaine; he felt bad, not old had she got caught up in all this, but she had been confused for someone he'd wanted to kill. He was going to make this right. "Miss Slaine, a proposition for you." he chimed up, raising his head just a little. "We're heading back to our camp in a few moments, and I extend that invitation to you; we can offer supplies for your journey, where ever that may be." The offer was a kind one, but one born out of guilt, rather than charity and goodwill, but was she one to look a gift horse in the mouth?

[Slaine]

A bit of fun? She snatched the book away, hauling the pack off of her shoulders and roughly cramming the thing in with the rest of her jumbled belongings. "Of course," she grumbled back, though she did not sound like she understood, or that she had forgiven him for it. Mourning her lost dignity she struggled with the straps, rolling her eyes as she was offered her pick of what remained. It almost seemed a pity to leave it all to waste, but did he expect her to be grateful? Hardly.

Exhaling a heavy sigh through her nose she instead responded by stomping toward the body - she might not have been a killer, but she certainly had no qualms looting a corpse and Aeirn had told her to take what she wanted. She doubted she'd find much of interest in the cart itself, dropping her bag once more as she knelt and heaved the old man onto his back, searching his pockets, his belt, his person and drawing back several pouches of components, along with what appeared to be a spellbook and several rings that had decorated his skeletal hands, shiny and about as enchanted as Slaine with her present understanding of elven humor.

Folding his hands across his belly she gave him some semblance of a restful repose as she climbed again to her feet and pulled the back into her shoulders. She'd nearly abandoned her search when she came across a bundle of flowers their stems nearly two feet long, their flowers as large as dinner plates and decorated by so many black seeds. It was such a curious find among the mundane trappings of a life devoted to ending others that she stopped to scoop them up, carefully straightening what she could of the vivid yellow petals and leaves, cradling bent stems. At least they had not been trampled and still looked somewhat fetching and cheerful.

She turned, bundle of sunflowers in arm as the elf called to her, and though she regarded the offer with visible suspicion she did not long hesitate, sighing as she trotted back to the road, hugging her find to her chest. "Yeah?" Admittedly, they likely had a better handle on this camping thing than her and she hadn't been terribly good at picking out what it was she needed. "... What are you having for dinner?" She quizzed, head tilting as she moved toward him, peeking over the yellow flowers, as though she needed to be convinced and had not already made up her mind.

She hoped it was something hot, but about then anything sounded good.