Private Tales Whittling in the Wood.

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk

When there's no more room in hell
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Character Biography
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It had been a long time since Sparhawk had wandered the forests of the Reach. In earnest, it had been many years since he'd visited Alliria, tending to avoid it's taverns and innkeeps, in fear of being pickpocketed or robbed. However, it's greenery it where it showerd it's beauty. From it's lush, green landscapes, basking in the hot sun, to the grass and flowers, breathing in the plentiful air that freshened all that was nourished in it's cool breeze. The sky was as blue as a hot Flame, the sun - a bright amber place in the sky like a gemstone on a ring. The smell of bushes and leaves filled the senses, a motif to the irrefutably simple beauty of the wood.

Sparhawk however, was not there for sight-seeing. He had already seen most of Arethil, but these woods had been tracked many times by his footsteps; he knew them very well. Since his conversation with his Old friend, Teel, he'd realised that, perhaps, he'd have to put behind what had happened at Belgrath. Letting go however, was not as easy a task as it may have been in conversation. No. To come to terms with something of that magnitude, one must retrace their steps to the beginning, and look within themselves, asking the vital questions of life; who are you, and what do you expect to be?

Before he go on his quest, he knew he needed a material for something necessary to his journey.

A Staff.

Of course, he had still got his old one. It worked fine, and felt comfortable in his hands. But ever since he had broken it in half, something didn't seem right about it. It felt as if he had been someone else when he'd broken the staff, and Sparhawk when he had reformed it. It was no longer truly his, and would never perform the tasks he needed it to, simply not having the structure or capacity to hold such potent magics.

It was a task to find a material that could serve Sparhawk's purpose. He could of course simply make it out of a birch or an Oak, but then it'd be like anyone else's staff. Not that he would mind, but it wouldn't withstand the constant demand he would be putting it under, and would more than likely be torn asunder from higher magic usage.

He was walking into darker parts of the woods now, as the day began to wain. Shadows lurked from behind trees, branches cracking under unknown sources. It put Sparhawk at great unease; never truly knowing whether he was being followed or not. He didn't feel like using magic to check his surroundings. As a matter of fact, he didn't even really feel like using magic at all.

It'd been an odd feeling he didn't think on. His lust to cast magic and learn of it's higher-arts had more than dissipated since he'd left Gerra's company. Almost as if his will to carry on had been snatched away from him, as trade for the lives he had taken. A cruel justice indeed, Sparhawk thought, searching for a suitable material.

For now, he glared at a clearing, surrounded by tall, hearty trees, that seemed to climb and weave themselves through the roots of life that lay underneath the dirt and earth.

How long is this going to take...
 
Wretched weather, wretched light and the most wretched of all the sun.
Why did the recipe call specifically for blossoming dandelions? Are they not fine after they shut close in the night?

Very well then, complaining can't change the recipe; Asuego finally decreed.

She was a woman of trailing curly hair. Pearlsent white, just like her sickly pale skin and lofty white dress.
On her head a wide brimmed hat with a pointy tip, it covered most of her face and her eyes were closed. She prodded the path with her thin staff like a blind person woul, while l a small cat walked before her, eyeing everything.



It didn't take long however for the witch to come into the open glade. Seemingly led there by the cat.
 
Why couldn't i have just picked a normal job? Like... farmer or, mercenary. Something like tha-

Sparhawk stopped in his tracks, leaves cracking and pressing beneath his feet as he came to an abrupt stop.

Someone was there with him.

He could feel a faint presence about the clearing, the wind carried the movement of another coming from due north. Probably just someone going about their business, hunting or so on. But it struck him as odd that a hunter or traveller would come so deep into the forest for something trivial.

He wasn't going to take any chances if it was someone who wouldn't greet him so kindly. He brought out his staff, poising it forward incase of ambush.

"Hello?"
 
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»Miyauu, mhrrrrrr « The small mouth of a feline opned agape as it trodded out into the open. Tail high erect and it's whiskers seooshed at the pace of it's gait.

Behind not long after came the woman in white. »Look at it; a stray mage, « gnarred the woman in her raspy voice.
It is not often that men of stature come by, and the radiating magic was a feeling rarely felt, yet so distinct from anyone else. It was mostly children and peasants getting lost.
 
He was becoming unnerved now. The figure was silhouetted in the tree line, the dim sun struggling to make heads-or-tails of the person talking to Sparhawk.

He pointed his staff forward further, the tip becoming bright with blue, sparking however; not quite reciprocating the magic Sparhawk was commanding it to do.

"Who are you? I- I have a weapon!" He said nervously. Not only did he not sound intimidating, he sounded stupid. A staff counting as a weapon...

This is how people get themselves killed Maho!
 
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»You dare threathen the Cutter-witch of Laggend?« Her voice had gone deeper and very sure of itself.
»Mighties of Laggend bog, « she bluffed, walking closer, but more aimlessly, each step having a careful placement about it.
 
The Witch was easier to see now, her presence revealed to the opening in the woods. Cloaked, light hair and pale skin, she looked as if she both had something to hide, and something to prove.

"You dare threathen the Cutter-witch of Laggend?"

"I would never threaten someone of such... famed power." He spoke, apprehensively.

Of course, Sparhawk had no idea who this person was, but decided to play along, for his own safety. He didn't want to patronise someone who was clearly experienced in the magical arts.
 
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"I don't think i shall. What are you doing in this wood, witch?" Sparhawk said, apprehensively. He didn't usually meet people in the middle of the woods, and from the title she had announced, he assumed she had enough power to give him problems.

He raised his staff further, it's tip bright, lighting up the area further.
 
The witch tugged her hat lower, to cover herself from the glow.
A thousand years up or down, preservance was always needed. The witch did not survive by being foolhardy afterall.

Her voice would be proud and stern, but more like a mother telling off a child.
»The woods are my domain, and you, mage, are but an intruder.«
 
Something didn't feel write. Although it was day, it felt as if the forest, at that very moment, could've been vailed in the deepest and darkest of nights. Sparhawk knew that Witches varied greatly in their power. Sparhawk knew a Witch who first introduced him to Spell-weaving when he was still in Cerak At'Thul. He felt that this Witch's presence however, was one of deeper power than that.

"An intruder i may be, but your woods these are not. I do not wish to disturb you, but i'm coming here for what i've come for."

He lowered his staff, attempting to dissolve the situation, despite the fact he was far, far younger it seemed from this witch. It must've seemed patronising for him to speak this way, he thought.
 
She shook her head briefly.
»Oh so you think.«

»Oh and what do you seek. Yew branches, hellebore, hawthorne trunk?«

The cat seemed to meander around the man. The witch seemed a little bit annoyed at it.
 
If he wasn't already spooked by the entire situation, the cat circling him certainly didn't help. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to tell the Witch about his intentions, but at this point, he didn't have much of a choice; if he taunted her further, he could end up dead.

"I am looking for a specific tree that grows on a grove near here. I've been wandering for a few hours now- Can- can you tell this cat to stop circling me..." He spoke out of turn, almost impatiently.

I hate cats...
 
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»Ah I see...That tree.« She loudly murmured so the mage could hear her. Her poise was nonchallant though, without a fear in the world.
»A cat cannot be commanded, all creatures of intelligence have free will«
 
"Look, i- i don't have much to offer, but, seeming as you know these woods far better than I, i don't imagine you could..." He thought for a moment. Did he want to ask her this? Was he tempting fate? Perhaps. But then again, this wasn't the first time.

"Point me in the right direction...?"

Yeah, i think this was a step too far. Stupid cat.
 
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The cat slowly walked back to the witch. »...You would state your business with the tree first.« Her voice seemed a little less secure as the cat was facing away.
 
Feeling a little better now the Cat had left his company, he was also made to feel a little worse by the prying of the Witch. Would she be angry with what i want to do? Possibly.

"What does that concern you, Cutter-witch of Laggend?"

Asuego Kiamast
 
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The man had never heard of this witch in his life, but had come across many witches in his time, and knew that it wasn't wise to both patronise, and insult them by not knowing their name.

"Answer me, witch!" He Said, a dark tone underneath his voice.
 
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"Well, i... uh-"

Shit. What benefit does it grant her? Think Sparhawk, think!

"Well, i imagine i can- i can tell people to avoid this part of the forest, and no longer disturb it. As it is - of course - your forest."
 
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"Weed your-" Sparhawk found it ridiculous. Although he once worked on a farm for several years, he didn't know what this witch had in store for him. Evil weeds? Maybe i'm thinking about this a little too much...

"You... You have my word! Now, do you know where this tree is?" A sense of urgency was in his voice. He didn't want to spend any longer in this Forest than he had to.
 
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»Very well then, we have a deal.«

The with turned into a peculiar direction, assuming as much that the wizard will follow her into the grove. Was he trully prepared for the tree?
»Be prepared. And if you opt out of my part I will have you swiftly cursed«
 
Surprised the witch agreed to their terms, and thus relieved, he approached slowly, watching the cat, still staring daggers at him. Creepy, Sparhawk thought.

"I'll keep that in mind." He knew being cursed was awful, as he might have the worst curse imaginable. But he'd rather keep it from getting worse - if he could help it.

"So, where is this tree?"
 
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