Private Tales Roses and Rust

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
"I'm Gannis," he replied bluntly.

There was quite the collection of bits and pieces around the house. He'd never had an eye for artefacts and books, not like some of the older Venari who trained the new.

"You have some interesting works on your collection," he said.

Despite not having a great eye, he had spotted something quite rare on the shelves. Something quite valuable. A treatise on forest demons of which just a few remained. Gannis wondered whether the man knew its value too.

Useful to know before negotiating the specifics of the contract and their fees.

"I think we need to know a bit more...a lot more...about what happened here," Gannis said. He looked around and, not seeing anywhete tidy enough to sit, remained where he stood.
 
“Why yes I know you’re Gannis,” Florian chuckled before pausing and then looking at Gannis with innocent playfulness. “Although I suppose you could be Larka. Interesting names the two of you had! I’ve been on many travels and excursions and I must say you are the first ‘larka’ or ‘Gannis’ that I have met.” As Gannis spoke Florian meandered to his desk and began pulling out loose pieces of paper, looking them over and then placing them back in a different place completely.

“Well I agree with that. You see, I’ve gone a very long time. Well. Not true. I’ve come back here and there during my travels, you see, and, oh not this one, where is it?” Florian muttered, continuing to search his messy office.

Larka looked over at Gannis, giving him a confused look. There was no way their employer could possibly be a man like Florian who was so scatterbrained he couldn’t even find what he wanted to show them.

“Aha! I knew I could find it. Now, look, see,” he turned around, waving a paper that held a sketch of a girl, a bush, a rose and sloppily scribbled notes in a ink that had been diluted in water. Everything on that page was slightly smudged. “Ten years ago, our village began to have a curious affliction. But you see, I believe it to center around a child who had just turned one at the time. This girl.” Larka looked over at the picture of the girl, blinking.

“Her name is Mirren. She’s eleven now. She’s the only one the rust hasn’t infected.”

Gannis
 
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"Mirren," Gannis repeated slowly. He didn't always pick up names quickly, so he let that sink in.

The man and his people had suffered enough; Gannis wasn't going to try and con him out of anything. However, he would certainly broach the topic of whether there was anything in his collection to be used as part payment later.

"Her family still around?" Gannis asked. "Have any quarrels? Any enemies? Powerful ones. Whatever magic this is, proper fucked a ward I tried to put together out in the woods." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to roughly indicate where they had come from.
 
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Florian was quiet for a moment, it was an unusual thing, even in the extremely brief time that Larka had known the man, which couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, she understood that melancholy was not something he actively displayed.

“Well, her family is technically still around, yes, I suppose you can say that.” Florian murmured before sighing deeply. “They’re alive but somewhat unresponsive. You see, her mother and father, they’re completely covered in rust. The only thing they can do is breathe, eat, drink, and well,” he glanced at Larka, “forgive my language young lady, but surely you understand that if they can eat and drink then they’re able to—“

Shit and piss?” Larka offered brightly, causing Florian to choke and cough in surprise. His face grew beet red and it took him a moment to collect himself. Larka merely grinned.

“Ah, well, that’s one way to phrase it.” He then looked over to Gannis and cleared his throat once more. “They were well-liked. Even though the town wants to well, claim the daughter is a witch, I really don’t believe it’s anything she has done. At least, not purposefully.” Larka’s ears pricked up at this. A strange statement to make, she looked over at Gannis excitedly.

So she did it on accident?” Larka pressed, which only caused Florian to sigh.

“Find her, take her far away from our town, and have her sing. And you’ll see what happens when she does.”

Gannis
 
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Gannis was starting to wish that a real expert in curses had been available. He knew the books and the lore. What he lacked was at real appreciation of the subtlety of magic and how to trace and manipulate it.

He tracked beasts by sight and scent, that was his true skill.

If the parents were alive, then they could be made to talk. It was a matter of risk and cost. He could fetch a tonic that would make their lives burn brighter for a time but it could make them burn out if they were weak. Their were communication encantations, but such things were always a short hop away from necromancy.

"We're here, so let's get on with it. Where is the girl?"
 
Florian nodded his head gravely at Gannis’ questions before uttering, “The house completely covered in rust on the east side of town. Trust me, unfortunately, you can’t miss it.” He said. A slight pause. “I’ll be waiting here.” He added, almost timidly. Larka looked over at Gannis and then at Florian.

I think it’s best if you don’t come.” She offered and saw Florian release a breath that he had been holding, his shoulders slumping into a more relaxed state. “We’ll be back if we have any other questions,” Larka added and with that, Florian led the venari out of his office back to the front door, staying inside his home as the venari left.

Larka began to walk to the east of town, and as they got closer to the destination it was ever so apparent that the worst of the rust was in this location. Less people were outside, no animals could be found, and it was eerily quiet. True to Florian’s words, it was completely covered in rust, so much so that layers of rust were growing on previous layers, causing the home to a particularly rounded and misshapen look to it.

Sitting on what was once a front porch but now looked like lazy waves rolling along a rusty-platform was a young girl without a mask. She was the only person that Larka had seen that had no sort of rust on her.

Gannis
 
Gannis let his eyes trace the outline of the house before falling upon the lone girl.

It was amazing that it was still standing. The rust had built in layers. They were peeling away from one another and he could imagine that if he tugged they would crumble away. It was a lot of weight for the wooden beams of the house to bear.

It was also remarkable that the girl was still alive. Village folk like these tended to lash out in any direction when subject to something like a curse. Someone would shout "burn the witch-looking spinster to lift it" and people often agreed.

"Mirren," he called out. "Do you know why we're here?"

Gannis was not - by appearance or demeanour - Well suited to negotiating with children.
 
The girl was silent. She continued to sit as the two venari approached her. She looked up at them and there was a sort of dull caution in her eyes. Seconds passed before Mirren would answer Gannis with a slow, small shake of her head. Larka took on a different approach than the older venari and smiled warmly at the young girl.

Mirren, you can’t speak right now, can you?” Larka said softly, stepping a bit closer to the girl and then holding out her hand. Mirren nodded. She only stared at Larka’s hand. “Come with us, we’d like to speak to you. Out in the fields, away from everyone else.” It was only after that Larka had said those words that Mirren took her hand. The foster looked back at the venari with a beaming look of triumph.

Then they headed off to the fields, walking and walking further and further away from the village. When Mirren stopped, so did Larka.

The foster wasn’t prepared for what would happen when Mirren would finally speak. The girl’s voice was incredibly deep yet hoarse as if she had spent days upon days screaming, but the way it echoed around them like a heavy drum…

ȟ£ȽȽ¤.

Larka gritted her teeth, hands covering her ears as wild, vicious part of her began to awaken. She had only experienced this hidden, dormant part during the time when she was forced to turn with everyone else. A deep, resounding ringing went through her ears. Suddenly, without warning, Larka fell down to her hands and knees and retched onto the ground, her stomach a pile of corded knots.

Gannis
 
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It started at the nape of his neck and wormed its way down his spine. It hurt. Gannis bared his teeth at a small child without even thinking about it.

He didn't reach for his swordinstinct entire bypassed such logical thoughts. His right hand opened, fingernails growing to claws. The pain of the shift was almost a barrier against whatever her voice did to him.

He managed to remain on his feet and kept the contents of his stomach down. He regained control. His right hand, which had started to extend and darken, returned to being just a human hand.

"Hello Mirren," he replied. "Larka, you might want to head down the other end of the field. I can deal with this."

He was older, it was his responsibility. And if he thought Mirren really was the source and he had to do the difficult thing, then that was his responsibility too.
 
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One word. One word was all it took for Larka to turn into some quivering pup. She looked up, looked at Mirren, glaring at her. But it was hard to maintain a venomous look because Mirren didn’t look happy. She looked worried, scared. The foster frowned, and slowly stood up, feeling a bit bashful for her display of weakness.

She looked at Gannis, chewing hesitantly on her lower lip.

I want to stay. I need to stay.” She said softly but determined nonetheless. “It’s my duty right now to learn.” She added. Larka looked back at Mirren, the same melancholy look on her face. “If only she knew how to write. Can you write?” The young woman said. Mirren shook her head. Of course, the majority of the town was most likely illiterate, Florian the only one who could read and write decently enough.

Larka was about to say something more, another half-hearted suggestion, but paused. She squinted, looking off into the field. Coming towards them, slowly moving, was “rust.” Moving along much like a giant, flat slug on the ground, heading straight towards Mirren.

Gannis
 
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"Stay then," Gannis replied.

There was teaching a younger Venari through giving them orders, and there was teaching them by letting them make their own choices.

Gannis tended to lean towards the latter method. Especially when he could barely concentrate on keeping his own self under control.

When he saw the mass of rusted metal convulsing and crawling across the field towards them his hand reached for the sword rather than the beast within.

His hand didn't quite reach the hilt of his sword, stopping above his shoulder. What was he even going to fight?

Gannis braced himself. He ground his back teeth together and tensed from head to toe.


"Why is it following you?" he asked Mirren.
 
Larka steeled herself, prepared to prove not only to Gannis but also to that inner voice inside her that she could handle whatever foulness was coming their way. Or at least survive it. The shifting rust was a sight to behold her, a moment of sublime awe going through her head as she tried to make sense of it. It was as bizarre as seeing rust on humans and those humans still able to move.

Mirren, with a perplexed looked down at her feet. Her hands were in tight fists, gripping her dress so hard that her knuckles were white. She looked behind her, seeing that same wave of red crawling over. The movement was slowing down as each second passed by. Not long after, it came to a complete and total stop.

The girl looked back at Gannis and pointed at her throat, and opened her mouth as if she were to speak but shook her head. She paused then, looking at the two venari in front of her before glancing away.

How can a voice draw rust to it?” Larka asked Gannis. It seemed Florian had assumed as much and why he wouldn’t go with them and had even instructed them to have her sing far away from the town. But with one word she had commanded the rust to come. “Do… we have her sing?” Larka asked tentatively.

Gannis
 
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Gannis reached over his shoulder and drew his sword. It wasn't a slender, fanciful thing. No golf or filagree or jewels. It was a heavy, single edged blade that would not have looked out of place in an abattoir. It did not sing as it was drawn. It had one function and the only noise it made was to whisper of death to come.

"Not yet," he said bluntly.

Gannis took a few steps towards to motionless rust. He didn't know if it had come close enough to the girl to stop or because her voice and its magic only lasted for so long.

"I'm going to poke that with a stick and see what happens," he explained.
 
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Larka blanched at what Gannis last said. Poke it with a stick? Surely not! She was certain that if Gannis did such a thing it would be as if he had poked a sleeping bear. A very hungry, irascible sleeping bear.

I’m sure you’ll only make the rust angry!” Larka exclaimed following along after Gannis. “What if you get covered in the rust, too? I may be stronger than I look but I’ll still struggle to carry you back all the way to the Conclave.” She insisted, skipping past Mirren who gave both the venari a unconcerned look.

When Gannis would prod at the rust, it wouldn’t move. If anything, the stick would actually scrape the rust off of whatever item it was on, whether it was grass or a rock or even the trail of ants it had covered over.

Gannis
 
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"Hmm," went Gannis thoughtfully as he lifted the stick. Flakes of rust remained on the end of the branch, but they stayed thankfully still. He didn't dare bring it close to his face, but the scent of iron and blood was strong.

Gannis threw the stick down. He turned back to Mirren and dropped to one knee in front of her. She seemed surprisingly calm in the situation.

"Nod or shake your head to answer me," he ordered. "If you speak is that stuff going to crawl over here?"
 
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Mirren looked at Gannis, a sort of childish innocence still about her demeanor but there was a weary look that no child of eleven should have. A weary look that spoke of hopelessness and despair, and a sad sort of resignation that this was how it would be and one should accept it. Larka absolutely could not relate. Too bad the girl couldn’t join the conclave and find meaning the way Larka had.

At Gannis’ words, Mirren nodded.

Gannis
 
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"Yeah, yeah thought so," Gannis muttered.

He stood up and looked back to the town.

"I wonder how much of the rust from the town that is...probably not much."

The wolf in him had settled back down. It couldn't help him against the rust, even though he would rage against that fate to the end.

"I wonder if it can cross water. We pass any streams in the woods?" He asked Larka.
 
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Larka was curious about what Gannis was putting together in his mind. She was still confused on the idea of the rust moving because someone spoke. While she was sure it was magic, possibly a curse, at the same time, she felt she was hardly the best to deal with such a thing. Not because she was a foster but because she was a venari. Weren’t they just monster hunters? Not curse breakers!

Unless the curse was tied to a monster? Larka was deep in thought thinking of all the monsters she had thus learned about. Quite a few of them were powerful enough to cause a single curse, but there was nothing written about a curse that drew in rust.

She blinked at Gannis’ question.

We did pass one, perhaps a mile in from the wood?” She said, and then glanced at Mirren who nodded her head in agreement to her statement. “But that’s not From where the rust is coming from, is it?

Gannis
 
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But that’s not From where the rust is coming from, is it?

"A very good question, let's ask that when we're not here. Come on Mirren, no talking for a bit. We're going for a walk."

An u comfortable feeling settled in his gut. Right now they were leading her away because he wanted to test the limits of this curse. But he had already considered leading her away to kill her.

There were times when you were backed into a corner and the only way to break a curse was to do bad things. At least he would make it quick, make her look to Larka as he made the swing from behind.

They weren't there yet. He still hadn't figured out anything about this curse. Leading her further into the woods just made a piece of himself start to mentally prepare for the worst.

It was a long walk for a child, but they were soon over the stream.

"Be ready to run," he told Larka. "It might not stop this time."

"Mirren..." he mentally braced and clenched his hands into fists. "...where does the rust come from?"
 
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Larka trotted along behind Gannis, her mind a mixture of worry that they couldn’t complete this task without a serious fatality and also partially hopeful that everything would turn out okay. It’s not that Larka had yet to be exposed to the horrors of what it was like to be a venari, if anything she was well aware of what this path ahead of her implied: servitude to the conclave and making sure, first and foremost, that no matter how she felt about a situation, she would act as how it would be most desirable to the conclave— even if it meant her demise would be necessary for that last principle.

The moment they were across the stream, Larka felt herself beginning to hold her breath. While Mirren had nowhere near the amount of speed or stamina as the venari and his foster, she did not once complain. Although she couldn’t complain to begin with, but her fair cheeks were flushed with crimson and her chest moved up and down in quick synchronization to her rapid breathing.

She looked over at Gannis, that flicker of hesitation clear for a moment. She took a deep breath.

“•?((¯°·._.• เt ς๏๓єร Ŧг๏ђเ๓. ђє’ร ђєгє. гเﻮђt tђєгє. •._.·°¯))؟•” She then pointed over, across the stream where they had just come from. Larka saw nothing, squinting hard. No obvious scent, no sound, no— a brief gleam of light. Something that shouldn’t have glimmered up in the air because there was nothing there to cause the gossamer-like shine. Larka shouted something in shock, a wall of rust appearing out of thin air, rising up high and over the stream.

Gannis
 
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Gannis slapped a hand hard into the nearest tree as she spoke again. Mentally preparing for it wasn't quite enough for the weight of each word.

His hand started to shift. Claws tore into the bark, which cracked and warped under the pressure.

"He's here..." Gannis repeated.

He had to tear his hand from the tree, scattering chips of bark. A him. A living thing. In a way that was much more straightforward than a complex spell.

Anything alive could be killed. It was just a matter of how much steel and how many people it required. Having a focus was almost a relief.

He drew his sword.

"If this fight turns, you run and tell the others," Gannis said.
 
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Larka looked from Gannis to Mirren to where she had once seen that strange glimmer as if for a moment a opal had been held up to the sun. The shock and confusion that once decorated her face was soon replaced by utter determination, a resolution to follow through on her teachings.

She drew her sword in unison with Gannis, or rather, she had a sword while he had that massive piece of steel. While Gannis preferred to hack away at his enemies, Larka—and quite possibly this was because of her size—had taken a unique approach as well compared to the majority of the venari. Her blade was thin, like all sabres were supposed to be, the point perfect for piercing. And that was exactly what Larka did. One strike often didn’t kill her opponents but it was through a series of repeated hits that often landed Larka as a victor, allowing her to use her agility and acrobatics to their fullest potential.

“I can help!” Larka insisted to Gannis, her golden gaze focusing on that rising wave of rust. Without warning, Mirren began running, and once she was a few meters away she began singing. Larka bared her teeth, growling out, using every ounce of her will to not chase after the girl and tear her to shreds… only to realize that the wall of rust that was set to wash over the two venari had stilled. Seconds later a loud, shrill ringing could be heard before the large mass of rust began to follow after Mirren, leaving the two venari alone.

Gannis
 
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"I know you can," Gannis replied, standing firm. He had never doubted that she would be able to help. What he had doubted, was their ability to win.

There was a saying among the venari as they studied their books on beasts and monsters.

There is a lot of blood in those books.

Sometimes it was taken literally and incorrectly. There was no blood in the ink. What they meant was that a lot of venari were seriously wounded or killed fighting unknown monsters to gain the knowledge used by later generations to succeed.

He had never read about such a curse or monsters. If he died fighting it then perhaps Larka could have penned that first paragraph. His own blood on the pages of their records.

Instead she seemed to want to stand, perhaps to the last. So be it.

"Where is she..."

Gannis was cut off by the sound of her singing. It made him shake. It made him growl. There was a danger in that growl, a warning before the transformation. For Larka there was more. It was a calling to her more feral nature.

Gannis just kept himself in check. He kept a tight grip on his sword. The cold of immutable steel was his anchor.

"After them!"
 
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Mirren could no longer be seen, the rust rushing after her however left a red-brown trail, coating anything in it’s way. Grass, trees, insects— all were poised to be weighed down by this mystical curse that seemed to spawn from the voice of one young girl.

Larka, the human part of her, was intrigued. But from the growl that emitted from Gannis, that human part of her mind was taking a backseat. Perhaps for the best. Baring her teeth, a change was happening over Larka’s body that couldn’t be seen, not quite. But Larka felt it. Every beat of her heart, she felt that adrenaline— and something more— course through her veins.

She could feel her veins pressing hard against her skin as if they were trying to break free from, could feel her muscles tighten. The sinews of her petite frame expanded, bulking her up enough so that her clothes which had once been loose were now tight and could rip apart at the seams any moment.

All at once, Larka’s vision felt clear and blurry. Then Gannis gave the command. After them. And just like that, she hyper fixated on the trail of rust, somehow could see Mirren running away, could follow her trail without needing sight or her ears, just instinctively knew.

Larka breathed in, a split-second action. She took a step forward. And another and another. The world moved by slowly for her, the peripheral vision having a hazy blur. She had no idea, or rather she knew but it was hardly registering to her until much later, that as she was running she was moving at a speed much faster than any young woman her size could ever manage.

Mirren may have had the lead but in under a minute, Larka was only a few feet behind her, even managing to outpace the magical rust.

Behind the two ladies, even behind Gannis, there was a presence, trailing behind them, waiting.

Gannis
 
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Larka outpaced her. She gave more of herself over to the draw of the change. Gannis kept a tighter seal of control over that side. Not because he did not need the strength, but because with the effects of the girl's voice he was worried he would lost control.

Him. It all came from a him. Some thing in that cloud of rust chasing after Mirren. Chasing? Following? Was there even a shape within it?

It was hard to think. He gripped his sword even tighter. Steel didn't feel the pull of change. It was cold and hard and very little that was mystical and magical could stand its kiss. Knowing that Larka had given a piece of herself over only made temptation greater. They were chasing together, hunting. He wanted to give in to the adrenaline, to the pain, to run and rend and sink his fangs deep.

"Fuck. Mirren, stop!"
 
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