Fate - First Reply Amid ruin and blood

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Raider trudged through the murky water, algae sticking to his armour while a sneer formed on his face, born of deep seething frustration, not of the swamp, mind you; he would embrace the feeling of the damp, squelching mud beneath his clawed toes and the heavy air of the swamp on his skin any day compared to the lands from which his people had fled.

but it also wasn't his ideal first choice either; he wouldn't have settled here if it wasn't for the fact that the tribe was on the verge of a rebellion if they were to journey any longer, with the strongest objections arising from those holding howling, hyper pups. He believed that a woman's patience ought not to be challenged.

Certainly, he empathised with the tribe's anger; they had already suffered numerous losses—killed by predators, defeated by severe conditions, and, of course, deserted. The latter was the main cause of his bad mood as he finally climbed up the muddy slope. The persistent scent of blood in the vicinity, the same that currently stained his claws, indicated that the cowardly idiots had chosen this route.

A towering ruin emerging from the marsh ahead of him probably acted as a temporary refuge to lick their wounds. It seemed like a good vantage point but a poor life choice if they planned to ambush him, he mused sarcastically.

Pausing briefly to brush off the oily remnants of the swamp from his armour, he resumed his walk, suppressing the inclination to kick a nearby stone due to the worry of facing another sudden jolt, an unpleasant consequence of his magic sensitivity that kept him almost perpetually alert to the energy in several rune-etched stones or the debris scattered beneath him in much of the marsh, gnawing at his already strained nerves and nearly making the tips of his ears quiver.

Had he been granted the time, he would have looked into why it appeared to escalate in this region, but at present, he was concentrating on finding the culprits and, ideally, doing so quickly to prevent further damage from them attacking another nearby community and endangering the tribe’s opportunities to restore their strength before the more aggressive natives took notice of them.

At last, at the base of the deteriorating wall, he silently started to ascend quickly, having merely peeked over the edge, and was on the verge of hoisting himself up when he unexpectedly halted, momentarily startled by what lay beyond.
 
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A cloaked figure stood up on the crest of the tower, but no true life radiated from her form. A perversion existed in the vampirism that thrummed through her veins, corrupted by a necromantic heart. The stench of death came from her left side, no doubt rotting flesh hidden beneath that cloth. Her magic though... it was black. Darker than the darkest soul, and it drove her hungry for power. Unlike the goblins, Larewen knew exactly what lay beneath her feet.

Her head turned as Raider breached the tower's crown, verdant gaze falling to the startled creature. Larewen seemed just as surprised, having not expected anything living to dare braving the bayou on the rumor of elven ruins. Or was it his view of the ruined necropolis further ahead, where the magic that touched the runes and objects leading this way, seemed far stronger?

"Why are you here?" the necromancer demanded, her voice soft, sweet, and coated with thinly veiled suspicion. The fact the city still rested mostly beneath the murky, muddied waters of the swamp came as a relief, but to know others were actively this close? That was unsettling. It lit a proverbial fire under her ass, her desire to seize what she knew lay within for herself paramount to anything else in the elf's life.
 
Well, fuck me. Raider cursed internally, his ears pinned back and teeth gritted as he tightly gripped the wall, lamenting his luck and cursing every deity he knew the name of while fighting the instinct to outright flee or call for backup. However, the power radiating from the pale elf quickly dispelled those thoughts. Even with his specialized armor blocking most of it, he could feel the sharp chill of necromantic magic stinging his senses the moment she had turned her gaze toward him.


He really should have noticed it sooner; however, with nearly every bog, ditch, and engraved stone registering on his magical radar lately, he had not bothered to examine the specific type of magic he was headed for until it was too late.


Why a stunning elvish woman cloaked in death was present here was... well, they had chosen this location for its convenience, filled with scattered ruins and seemingly deserted by all other races. It was only now that he truly contemplated why that might be. It seemed only natural now that such a place would attract larger predators, a significant oversight on his part.


Raider cleared his throat, feeling a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow as he summoned the last remnants of his courage. He donned a braver and prouder facade, praying that he could slip away mostly unscathed and that hopefully, his next words would not be his last.


"I would ask you the same, but I have rather pressing matters, places to be, other goblins to maim," he said, trying to sound unbothered by her presence as he began attempting to descend the wall in both a stealthy and leisurely manner; however, to any discerning eye, it would perhaps more resemble a sneaky mouse trying to slip under the notice of a large cat.
 
Larewen watched with dark curiosity as the goblin spoke. Whatever thoughts crossed her mind failed to surface upon the pale features of her face. Finally, her jaw tensed for a brief moment and she drew nearer to the creature, weight shifting as she knelt closer to him.

"Pressing matters don't bring people to ruins generally," the elf remarked. Even as short as she was for one of her kind, meeting his gaze at eye level was difficult. "Unless... are you a hireling?"

Truth be said, Larewen's knowledge of goblins had more than enough room to grow. For a brief moment, she wondered how a re-animated goblin might dance at the end of her necromantic strings, but this likely wasn't an appropriate time. Chances are, short of killing him herself, she'd have to wait until later.

The elf's nostrils flared, inhaling his scent as if she could taste the blood running through his veins already. A tongue pressed to the tip of one of her fangs, the pointed tooth biting into the membrane as she awaited his reply.
 
Raider had only experienced a fleeting glimmer of hopeful joy, believing for a moment that he might have had a sliver of a chance to escape. However, that feeling quickly vanished as she knelt, her slightly taller figure looming over him. The dark aura surrounding her felt as if it were pinning him down with ice-cold claws.

He stared at her closer proximity with wide eyes, unable to fully decipher her thoughts from her expression. Nevertheless, he could easily imagine that she was contemplating all the inventive ways she could skin him alive if he failed to provide a satisfactory answer.


Sweat dripped from his brow as his eyes darted back and forth, contemplating her question. He had recently heard the term circulating in his tribe's common speech, particularly from other goblins who had joined them.

"Are you asking if I'm an errand boy?" he inquired, squinting as he voiced the question that surged to the forefront of his frantic thoughts. The idea of being reduced to a mere for-hire lacky struck him as somewhat ridiculous; he had commanded whole armies and kil-. However, his more cautious and rational mind quickly intervened, curbing his prideful and indignant thoughts before they could be voiced and provoke his potential assailant.

"Ahem, what I meant to say is that we've recently come to settle and address some loose ends," he said, holding up a clawed hand, blood still coating his nails. "But I have numerous scouts within my ranks if you need a guide or, say, someone to handle any unpleasant tasks you might require!" he said, his voice growing increasingly strained and his movements becoming more frantic the longer he remained under her oppressive presence.

His eyes nervously darted down to her covered hand, observing how the necrotic magic swirled around it like a wispy, coiled snake. He then glanced back up to meet her gaze, offering what he hoped was a businesslike, albeit strained, smile.
 
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