Private Tales Betwixt Places

[Garrod Arlette]

Amidst the wilderness of the Allir Reach, just shy of the coast of the Allirian Strait

Well into the wilds, there was not but the sound of crackling camp-fire and the scrape of whetstone against knife's steel. Garrod, sellsword and monster hunter, sat before that flame, and was the cause for the cold and repetitive scrapes and rings as he keened the edge of his carving tool. At some point, he had let it grow dull, and that just wouldn’t do.

It was always strange, to be between jobs. Leaving the hunt of one field, and making his way to the next. North and east, along the coast, the fisher had told him, in a grotto hidden away, but a day and a half’s march. He had offered Garrod a ride on his dingy, but, he preferred the peace that came with a lonely wander.

Scrrrrapeshiiing

He placed the gritted stone beside him, and raised the knife up to his good eye. Angled it one way, then the other. Looked good enough.

Garrod…

He sheathed the tool with a quick thump, and let it rest next to the belt that was laid across the stump he rested his back against.

Why do you ignore me, Garrod?

His lone green eye looked over at the pale blue eye of his gauntlet. Watched as the forked firelight flickered across its moonlight sheen.

You know… I take care of you...Garrod...I protect you…

He smirked at the ornament. Bared his teeth at that thing he had laid so tenderly by his pack. “And what do you call what I do for you, eh, Belephus?”

He could hear it laugh its fog wisp laugh. You know what you do… Garrod.. You let me grow hungry… you leave me to wane… to suffer...

Garrod grit his teeth with foul humor. “Of course…”

 

[Celestia]

Ever since she had met Tereth, Celestia had been on the lookout for strange monsters. He had planted the idea in her mind that they existed everywhere and were constantly prowling to eat poor villagers. That was why she found herself wandering around above the woods, though she comically had no idea where she was going.

She had spotted the campfire from a distance away, the golden hue sharply lighting up against the pitch black night. Celestia had been flying above the trees to patrol for any strange activity. She promptly landed a few feet away, trying to make out what it was.

Ever since people reacted poorly to seeing her wings (either thinking she was a divine angel or some sort of monster), she resorted to appearing more like a common surface elf. Only her wings had differentiated her from her elven cousins. Like all Avariel she had the ability to hide them, and for now they were out of sight.

After observing for a few moments, she quietly emerged into the open, scowling suspiciously.

“Why are you talking to yourself?”

That seemed like unnatural behavior. He was probably a monster, right?

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Why are you talking to yourself?" Came a voice, not at once unfamiliar to him.

"That's a new line for you Bele..." As he lifted his eye to fix a glare upon the gleaming jewel, it dawned on him that this voice did not belong to the piece of armor. It, the voice, belonged to this person before him, who had materialized out of the darkness. "What?" He asked, incredulous.

Yes Garrod, why are you talking to yourself?

He could hear the gauntlet laugh its slithery laugh. He huffed and did his best to ignored it.

He forced a wry smile across his lips, bitter as poison. "You never get lonely?" He asked the person. Still unsure of what to make of them and their arrival. Had there been a sound, or was his mind too filled with the sickly sweet whispers of Belephus?

It mattered little now. She was here, and he would have to wait and see what she did. "Come," he motioned welcome with his hand. "The fire is warm, and clearly I could use the company," though nothing in his voice hinted at that.

Celestia

 

[Celestia]

She was even more alarmed as he continued talking to himself - as if addressing someone else that wasn’t there. She looked around just to make sure, almost reaching for her weapon. Was this an ambush of some sort? She couldn’t hear or smell anyone else, and that was good enough for now.

“It’s dangerous out here,” Celestia said as she stepped further out towards the fire. This revealed her elven features and the shock of red hair. She took in sight of the man, glancing down to look at his arm. There was something...troubling about it. As a creature very much attuned to magic, it almost seemed to pulse with something. Celestia ignored it for now, raising her gaze to meet his. She also noticed the single eye, pondering for a moment before looking away. She had been taught that humans grew uncomfortable if you held their gaze too long.

“There was a werewolf out here not long ago,” Her accent was thick, and it was clear that the common tongue was not something she spoke often. This was curious for an elf - long lived creatures that would have known to speak the language by now.

Celestia walked towards the fire, extending her hands out to warm them. She couldn’t deny that it was a nice reprieve from the chilled night air.

“You….aren’t a bandit, are you?” She suddenly asked, remembering that usually humans out in the middle of the wilderness were up to no good.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Dangerous. It most certainly was that, and he had heard nothing of the werewolf, and that bit of sour news spread across his face too, ending in a crooked lip. "Funny that, about the skin changer..." he leaned back against the stump as she moved closer to the flame, her pointed ears painted by the firelight. An elf. But the accent didn't quite match.

"You...aren't a bandit, are you?"

He clicked his teeth and averted his gaze. "I suppose that depends on who you ask," he looked up at the elf woman. "What of you?" He stared at her plainly. "Are you a bandit?" He stretched his neck to the left, then the right, as if a cat still getting comfy for a nap. "Got your band hidden away in the woods somewhere nearby?"

It wasn't uncommon to hear of elves taking to banditry. Falling upon travelers. Some did it for the coin, while other tales told of rebels and freedom fighters who still remembered what the Dreadlords had done to their forests.

She probably wasn't a bandit. Or if she was, she would make a much better actor. Though he could see how some audiences might find her performance too earnest. "My name is Garrod," he stated. "I am a sellsword and monster hunter." He flicked his head toward the great sword, sheathed and rested against his pack. "I was hired to kill some sahagins in a grotto to the north." He thumbed his nose and let his arms rest on his knees. "You hunting the werewolf?"

Celestia

 

[Celestia]

Celestia gasped at being accused of being a bandit. She was a respected healer in the Avariel community, and here was someone asking if she were a bandit?! Her face was scrunched up as she bit her tongue back from a jabbing response.

“No, but I have friends in the area!” She said abruptly in case he had any bright ideas about attacking her. Celestia was not used to operating entirely alone. Avariel often worked in groups, and she had been learning things on her own ever since she landed on the surface.

“I was patrolling these woods to make sure the the werewolf didn’t -” Celestia stopped then, her eyes widening, “To the North? That’s by where the village is!” She had no idea what a sahagin was, but if it was a monster, then it was too close to a village. She pictured giant monsters with huge claws akin to dragons.

“Why aren’t you hunting them?!” She asked, alarmed, “It could be out there killing people!”

 

[Garrod Arlette]

From the fire came a crackle, a pop, and cinders went up into the air riding the cool draft. Garrod smirked.

That's right, Garrod, why aren't you hunting those monsters? Why aren't you marching long into the night and taking those creatures down with your blade?

Belephus' voice was feint, but a whisper on the wind. Still, it slithered through his mind all the same. Garrod grit his teeth and showed a dark grin.

"It would do me no good to show up exhausted, now would it?" He replied rigid and tense. To her, or to the disembodied voice, even he wasn't sure, but his eye was fixed on the pale jewel that gleamed hungry and orange by the flickering flame. "Besides," he added as he tore his gaze away and leaned back as he sucked in a deep breath. "Sahagins tend to stick to their territory. The people of the village are aware of the danger, so they'll steer clear, I'm sure." With that, he pulled himself up and onto his feet, lazy and long as he did. He moved toward his pack, moved his blade, and began rummaging through his supplies.

"It was the fishers who hired me," He went on, as he found a small bundle of food stuffs. Nuts and dried fruit, apples and pears mostly, with a few peach strips left, all of which he laid on a small bit of cloth. Some old bread too along with a little corked jar, and a pinch pot. He took out a small knife and sliced off two pieces of the bread.

"Want some?" He asked her, and carefully opened the jar, dipped the knife, and smeared purple jam across one piece of bread. Next, he opened the pinch pot, and took a pinch of salt from it to sprinkle on the bread and jam. He quickly took a bite, and while he still chewed he said through a mouthful of his snack. "It's boysenberry."

Celestia

 

[Celestia]

Celestia eyed him quietly as he prepared his food. She was about to politely say no, but he took a bite of the food himself. That helped alleviate some suspicion, and the Avariel slowly stepped forth and took one of the bread. She found the inclusion of salt to be curious, and she had never seen it done before. Celestia followed his gesture and took a bite, surprised at the odd mixture of flavors.

“Did you make this yourself?” She said, nodding her chin towards the jam. Celestia wasn’t used to humans that were friendly, and this was oddly pleasant. She had a habit of running into monster hunters repeatedly, and she began to wonder if that was a very common profession.

“What happened to your arm?” There was almost a strange whispering that emanated from it. Celestia started to lean forward, not entirely in control of her movements as her hand slowly reached out to touch it, “It’s...almost...speaking…” Her words began to trail off.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

He smirked. "I did," he answered, a hint of pride shining through the gloomy gravel of his voice. But that was done away with when her next question came, and his arm flinched back from her touch as his face twisted into the beginnings of a snarl.

"Best not touch it," he seemed to growl through clenched teeth. "It's a magicked piece of armor," he told her, settling back into a more relaxed posture, though his frame was still taught with tension.

Yes Garrod, yes, let her touch me, let her feel me... Then maybe I can mark her too...

Could Belephus do that on its own? The swordsman wondered. Had there ever been such a case?

The gauntlet's voice snickered in his mind. There is only one way to find out...

"I came across it some time ago." He told her, not really sure why he was being so free with his words. Perhaps it was her forthright nature, or her simply being there and caring to ask. "Can't say I remember the adventure too well, but I do remember finding this... this thing." He moved his armored arm for emphasis. "It has powers I don't yet understand, and what mages and wizards I've taken it too, well... They were more interested in taking it from me than teaching me of it." His smirk returned, a curl of lips dark with a cruel humor. "What of you, nameless traveler, do you wish to take it for yourself too?"

Celestia

 

[Celestia]

Celestia’s face flushed red as she realized she hadn’t bothered introducing herself. She was used to life amongst her people and it was a city where everyone knew one another. She flashed him a sheepish grin, “I’m Celestia. What’s your name?”

She could tell he wasn’t entirely comfortable speaking too much about the gauntlet. Her gaze never left it, and she could feel it pulsating oddly. There was something very sinister about it and it clashed directly with the core of her being. Her specialty was light magic, and she was especially adept at sensing and destroying dark magic.

“...How is your arm under that gauntlet?” Celestia asked quietly, “Do you have an arm still?” She could tell she was being nosy, and she quickly cleared her throat.

It was then that she realized that the woods had gotten perfectly still. It was unnaturally quiet, and she couldn’t hear the crickets or bugs that were chirping just moments prior.

“Something...something is wrong,” She whispered quietly.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

He laughed at her worries. "I have an arm, aye." He responded watching as she cleared her throat. And as the world around them shriveled and tensed he felt the quiet and still fall heavy upon them. "But that can wait." his eye shifted to search the shadows. "My name is Garrod, Aralette," he let out, quick and curt, remembering her earlier question as she heard her whisper, and he he sensed the stillness growing thicker around them.

There was a rustle in the growths, a movement that stirred the leaves and the branches of bushes and shrubs, snapped twisting vines and brambles. Garrod's lips turned up, and he looked pleased with the development of their shared situation.

"Mayhaps its the skinchanger" he teased her, and his gauntleted arm took a knife from his waist-belt.

He wasn't sure what it was, but i seemed smart enough to wait, smart enough to lay low and watch and see what they would do next. His up-turned lips spread into sour smirk, but there was tang there in that twist of flesh, an amusement and perverse joy.

We'll be able to mark this one, Garrod. Mark it and make us stronger! Belephus demanded.

And before he could chide the spirit inside his piece of magicked armor, the beast broke through the bushes, wiry fur ripped through grotesque flesh, bulging and rippling upon humanoid frame. Canine jaws snapped at them, ravaging claws tore in their direction, and Garrod dodged back, raising his knife to cut and maim the flesh of his attacker. The quick slashes he struck flaying tender meat from bone and letting dark black blood spill across the floor.

Howl, high and full of agony, filled the night air as the werewolf lept back from the monster hunter who'd cut at it. It's blood poured from its veins freely from its sliced arteries, but its wounds were stitching back together, nearly as quick as they'd been carved into their meat.

Come Garrod, let me mark this creature, let me have it and cease its infernal self regeneration!