Private Tales Whittling in the Wood.

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The witch would walk ahead of the wizard for now, her pace rather sluggish.
»Patience, wizard. You shall see soon enough«

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Despite the Witch's sluggish pace, he'd mostly calmed down. Witches, much like Wizards, could often listen to reason, and it seemed she was no different. At least, he hoped that was the case.

"Sparhawk. That is my name." He might as well make himself familiar. Diffuse the tension.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»Sparhawk? The Spahawk of the siege on Belgrath?«
Her voice didn't seem to have much wonder to her tone, but she semed to have heared that name mentioned from transient dwarves that passed these woods on their trip to better lands.

The witch would keep walking ahead, the small cat occasionally looked back at sparhawk.
Just in the time where the witch tripped a bit over a root.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Those words struck Sparhawk like an angry comet hit the surface of the Earth. He had heard rumours that his name was beginning to be passed from Dwarf kind, warning them of his actions. Of the atrocities he'd committed, but never had he believed them until now.

He felt ashamed.

"I know not of any Siege. I'm- I- I'm not one to get involved in a S-Siege." He stumbled.

Well, Sparhawk wasn't the type to get involved in Sieges.

But he didn't feel like Sparhawk anymore.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

Her voice would trail on as she sensed a change in tone. Picking herself up and dusting the robe, she spoke:
»The dark fire mage himself...In front of me. So the rumours are true.«
Lies were hard to hide.


The witch however walked onward.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

She would not save him the shame. Sparhawk remembered when he was a nobody, travelling from island to island, working for food on local farms of pastures, working magic for local villages who needed help. He remembered when he was but a travelling shadow.

He'd hoped that, if he were remembered, it'd be for something great: for discovering a new type of magic, a creature long lost to time, or some lost knowledge that would save Elbion.

But no. Now, he would be remembered as the Fire Mage of Belgrath; killer of hundreds of Dwarves. Who fought without mercy.

"I-" He paused. He wasn't quite sure what to say. She clearly didn't believe what he'd said.

"I'm- i'm not... just carry on walking." He ruffled his shoulders a little, visibly uncomfortable, and continued at their slow pace.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»What evil roped you into that madness,« the witch drilled further, all the while walking deeper into the woods.
Rays of light that passed through the canopies got rarer and rarer. The trees grew densers and the forest floor turned from undergrowth and moss to dead leaves rather quickly.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

As the Forest became more and more coveted in darkness, so did the topic of their conversation. He felt surrounded and isolated by the foliage and trees that seemed to grow more and more frequent and fertile, their roots imbedded in the forest floor, lining it with dying leaves as they continued on. He sighed.

"...That's the same thing i kept asking myself. You don't always g-get to make a choice." He rubbed his arm, the cracks in it's brimstone surface pained him.

Evil... is that what is was...?

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

Soon enough the trees would turn to pines, high and thin, painting the ground below in darkness. Scarcely a light now passed through.
»And what path led you to it.« The witch quietly spoke out, seeming to walk slightly faster now and hardly use her walking cane at all.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

"...The Wrong one."

The light had more or less left the Forest at this point, the deep foliage that blanketed overhead preventing it from piercing through with it's powerful, bright beams of sun. The Witch seemed to keep pace now, her stick providing her very little support against her walk, although, it looked as if she didn't need it.

"How much Farther?"

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»Do you regret anything.«

»Never learned patience?« The witch murmured. The angles at which the scarce few rays of light fell came down at increasingly flatter angles, illuminating the mosquitos that flew throughout.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

"Do i regret anything? Look at me." He said, shocked. He opened up his arms as if to say, look at me!

"I no longer feel the warmth of the sun on my skin. I don't sleep anymore. Every minute of the day i'm whispered to incessantly. Look at my arm; it would serve better as an anvil for a smith than an Arm. Look at me! I Feel Nothing!" He was angry with himself. He had indirectly ruined himself through his deal, and it upset him deeply. Giving up so much over so little.

"And i had plenty of patience, but i'm running out of time. Just..." He sighed.

"Please, carry on."

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»I see you not, human. But I know that your plight is your own.« The witch turned to face him, raising her face enough to show the eyes on her. They seemed more like a ripple of holes into a gleaming void behind.

She turned around and walked onward.
»The tree is not nearby, not at all.«

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

He respected her response. His outburst was unnecessary, but he did what he did, and felt no regret. His mood calmed, he carried on, settled by her carefully measured words. He might as well make conversation, if their journey was to continue on.

"Why do you choose to reside in this... Darkness? Although, now i think about it, all this does seem quite... Witchy..." Throughout Arethil, if you'd studied in Magic, you were either a Wizard or a Sorcerer, man or woman, Elf or Human. But Witches seemed to carry their own status, their art shrouded in mystery. Most of what he knew was stories, some experience.

He was, without a doubt, curious.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»And what is a wizard without his hat, robe and staff. It's all part of an uniform, a person's presentation and visage.«
She spoke with a well spun tongue, as if no thought were required to speak such words this quickly.
»All this is part of a facade to uphold.«

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

"You may be right. But at least a Wizard's facade is one of respect, dignity and the will to help others. Rather than a witch who... twists the mind and..." He paused.

To be honest, he didn't know that much about Witches. He'd met a fair few, but all of them had been more lent towards the Dark Magicks, but he had no right to judge.

"Just take my where i need to go."

Asuego 'Sue' Susanna

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The witch chuckled. »And a witch is there to scare small children. We're close by, gaze upon it« Asuego led him to a thick wetland covered in gnarly riverine trees like willows and black pines. With a swipe of her arm, she moved aside the weeping branches and held them upright for Maho to pass through.
In a small island covered in mud devoid of any life stood a tree of chalky colour. There was no leaf or bird on it despite the summer season.
It's aura was ominous, forboding. It's magic pulsating through the the realm.

»A hellish abberation, like no tree ever seen... «

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

There was something unsettling about the environment in which he stepped in. Similar to Elbion, it emitted some force of which he couldn't explain. The dank, wetness of the region stank of green and nature. But the tree is what struck Sparhawk; it was perfectly white, but not bright in any sense. It seemed dead, yet glowed with life, no leaves or animals on it of any kind.

"What... is this?" He said, curiously.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»The chalkwood tree, it will be sad to see it go, but supposedly it won't be fallen untill you solve it's mystery.« The witch walked to the edge of the tree's dead crown, not daring to enter it's shade. But the witch held her composure high, beckoning for spahawk to come closer.
»Sit under it and take a break.«

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

He paused for a moment. A mystery? It hadn't been the first time Sparhawk had come across an element of nature that contained some magical puzzle or oddity, but it did seem fitting something of that ilk would attach itself to such a strange and mysterious tree.

"... I've never been any good at puzzles." He fastened his staff to his back, and followed the Witch, falling under his weight onto the soft, muddy floor. He, admittedly, was relieved to be taken off his feet for a while.

"What's so special about this tree?"

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»I've never tried it before, but they say many men come here, some return gleeful and enlightned, others never come back at all. « The witch stepped back.

Once The mage's back kissed the white flesh of the tree, an odd power resonated within. But it felt locked away, far from reach.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

From the moment his back touched the bark of the tree, he knew something was dreadfully wrong.

I've never tried it before, but they say many men come here, some return gleeful and enlightened, others never come back at all.

"Wait- What do you mean! Wha-"
​

Abruptly, everything around him began to turn dark, as if the brush forest that ran above them had closed in on itself. Progressively, the Witch, along with the lush trees began to melt away, and he felt as if his body was going to float into nothingness.

He had entered a void.

A void of thought, or of the physical world, he could not be sure. He was no longer wearing the clothes he had brought with him, but a farmer's attire. Sparhawk looked about himself, disturbed at his situation, and stood up. He instinctively reached for his staff, but found nothing but a Farmer's sickle. It seemed oddly familiar to him. The hair on the back of his neck began to stand up. Adding to his surprise, his hair-cut had changed, it was shorter, but wilder. So had his face; it felt younger, without the wrinkles he had gained from age, and spared from the gaunt, hungry visage he had grown as of late.

As he looked at his surroundings, the black void he had stood in began to change once more. Like a paint brush grazing over a canvas, strokes of daylight were placed back into his environment, and soon his setting became clear; a bright summer's day. As he looked down, the empty floor was replaced with life. Lush, emerald-green grass, that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see. It looked like the Spine, but it couldn't be, he'd be able to see some sort of buildings. But as he looked behind himself, he saw something that shook him to his very core.

A farm-house. A farm-house with a double knotted yellow gate outside of it.

He knew exactly where he was.

Apprehensively, he began to walk towards the house, recognising more and more as he made his approach. The stone slabs he'd placed on the walkway. The flower-pots he'd made with life sprouting from them. She always loved flowers.

He opened the gate, the paint he'd applied to it flaked off in his hands, a sign of many years ill-care. It made a familiar creaking sound as he opened it, a noise he hadn't heard in a very, very long time. His thick boots made contact with the slabs he laid, making a heavy thud with each step, weeds sprouting from the cracks in between them.

Finally, he'd come to a heavy, oaken door. He hadn't made it. It had stood there for almost a hundred years, made of the finest hard-wood, standing tall and strong, sturdy against many years of use. He knew he wouldn't have to knock. Not this time. He placed his hand on the iron rung used as a handle, and pushed it forward, making next to no sound at all.

He is presented to a small, but warm room. All made of the same sturdy wood, planked together with iron nails and hard-work, lit dimly by the fire place. A cauldron sits above it, a stew of some definition cooking within it. A small torch rests on the wall next to it, with a family crest sitting above it. In the middle of the room, amongst other small pieces of furniture, is the centre piece; a large, Falwood Table, with three chairs, gifted by the Elves, and of spectacular craftsmanship. What tore Sparhawk in two however, wasn't the table, or the house, or the road, or the grass, or the sky, but the person sitting at the table.

She... my Alina...

She was truly beautiful. 23 Years old. She had eyes of Emerald green, like the grass that grew in the field. Her hair was long and fair, and rested around the gentle contours of her face. Freckles decorated her gorgeous features; her small nose, her soft lips, and her cheeks that made her smile a sight one would wish to behold forevermore. Sparhawk clenched his fist, and he could swear he could feel blood run down his fingers, from where his nails pierced the hard, leathery soles of his hands.

She's not real Sparhawk... She's not real. She's. Not. Real.

"Maho."

At that moment, Sparhawk swore, for the first time in a very long time, he felt feeling.

"Ali... you're... you can't-"

"Maho, please..."

She brought out her hand to meet his, her delicate, perfect hand.

"I'm... Ali- i can't... i'm not ready..."

"We never are Maho. Hold me, now, as you did then. Please."

He brought out his hand, reaching for hers. But from where he hoped for relief, he was sorrily mistaken.

The moment his skin touched hers, she stopped, suddenly. Her eyes met Sparhawk's. Her beautiful greens turned to sour greys, as she turned to ash before his eyes. As her remains hit the floor, he could hear an echo of a voice, like the last grasping breath of a memory;

It's all your fault.
​

The feeling he had before had quickly made itself scarce, as all he felt was bitter, dark hatred. Not for mankind, not for Alina, but for himself. His hands, which he were now gazing at, were dripping with blood, hot with it's red sickness. He dropped to the floor, his knees slamming against the timbers. The floor made music with his sobbing, as his tears dropped against the Oak. His head began to throb, like a hammer hitting an anvil over, and over, and over again. His sobbing was now drowned out by his screaming, as voices flooded his head. The House he was sat in melted away again, only to be replaced with a battle-field. He now realised the screams were not his own. They were borrowed. Stolen.

He looked around himself, and found bodies. So many bodies. All screaming, their mouths wide open, belting out blood-curdling cries. He could feel his body being split in two.

WHERE'S DOUGLAS? WHERE'S THE REINFORCEMENTS!?

SOMEONE?! ANYONE?!

Please... No more... just let me di-​

He could feel the voice of a hundred men crying for help, flooding his conscious. He felt his sins weighing on his back.

And for the briefest moment, he could've sworn, in the chaos of it all, he saw something in front of him. More of a presence than a being, a darkness. A plague, a blight. But it had eyes, much alike Sparhawk's. But it peered deeply into him, as if it knew who he was, and what he was going to do.

You have much left to do, Maho Jerik Sparhawk.

Time to die.​

And as quickly as he had entered, be appeared again, everything back in place, sitting beside the tree. Sweat fell from his brow, and he felt extremely hot. Tears fell down his cheeks. And, if he were being perfectly honest with himself in that moment, he wanted a hug.

He didn't say a word.

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

The man looked as if staring into the depths of the skyhell.
Everything looked like a normal man jerking as if posessed by the tree. Normal on the course for this tree. It looked perfectly normal to her.

To spahawk, a blue flame began to glow right above his head. A single branch was engulfed in blue fire, it was inviting, welcoming. Unlike the previous harrowing feelings set from the tree.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

The branch was unsightly, a great blue flame engulfed it. However, it didn't seem to push Sparhawk away, as it did invite him to touch it. Without even thinking, tears still rolling down his face, his arm drifted towards the branch, grasping it firmly and suddenly.

Like that, it came off into his hands. A long, Chalk branch, blue etchings making their way through it, in betwixt the wood.

He fell silent, as he held it for a while.

"What does this mean?"

 

[Asuego 'Susanna']

»Odd, it is a branch, now a...staff« Asuego murmurred, She didn't see no flame, only the branch warping as it touched the mage's hand. »Come here before the tree takes your mind!« The witch urged him.