Searching for Something Forgotten (OPEN)

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien staggered through the trees, the effort of standing almost unbearable. He used his sword, still in the scabbard, to aid his standing, but even that was beginning to fail.
"Damn.." He muttered. The poison was acting fast. It had not been meant for him, rather, it was meant to be taken by an army commander visiting a city a few days from where he currently was, but he was found out and the poisoned plate of food was given to him instead.

Just as he broke the cover of the trees to come upon the lake he fell to his knees, coughing violently. Blood spattered the ground in front of him and dripped down his chin.

He knew two things about the poison. One, it sat in the system for four days before it began to work. It killed in mere hours, but those hours were the most painful, miserable hours of one's life. Two, there was a cure. More than one, actually. He had no idea what they were, or how to go about finding them, or even how it was cured - magic? Herbs? Potions? He'd come to Lonea Lake looking for an old friend - or rather, old enemy - that might be willing to help, but he'd gotten lost. And to make matters worse, he was fairly certain he was being sought out by the henchmen of the same man he'd tried unsuccessfully to assassinate. If they looked enough, they might just find the one artifact that kept the commander from sending out mass legions to wipe out hundreds of people.

"No matter," He muttered to himself. By the time they found him he would be dead, so there was going to be no information extracted from him.

Finally, he collapsed. The most he was able to do was struggle onto his back. Every single cell in his body screamed with pain, but his head was so filled with fog at this point he barely registered it. He raised his arm, holding a small dagger, over his heart, but let it flop back to the ground. Just holding it aloft was too much effort, let alone piercing his own chest to take his life. He lay on his back, breathing shallow, wishing for someone to come along and end his misery.

[Lujayn]

Deep sleep was awakened by the crashing of undergrowth, and a loud thud of something fairly large collapsing on the ground. Groggily, Aneira opened her eyes, sitting up from her uncomfortable bed made of her cloak on a pile of leaves. What had just happened? She looked around, brushing away the black hair, with its single white-blonde streak, from her eyes to see more clearly. Through an opening in the trees she noticed a body, and she frowned. What was someone doing, lying in the open like that?

Light blue eyes opened wide. What if she was witnessing the aftermath of a murder? What if the murderer was still around? Was she in trouble? She scrabbled upwards, which ended up in her falling onto her rear, bringing tears to her eyes from the pain. “Ow...”

She looked around, but couldn’t sense anyone else, besides the slowly ebbing life-force of the body beyond the trees, next to the lake. Oh, dear. He didn’t seem to have much longer, by the looks of it. The Death Flow was greedily sucking in his life. Even worse than it did her own, which was more of a slow trickling.

She stood, grabbing her cloak and wrapping it around herself before cautiously venturing forth. It wasn’t that cold, really, but she was still wearing three layers of clothing, all very thick articles as well. A very strange sight, to be sure, especially since she still looked as if she were cold. It would be true- she almost never felt warm. When she reached the edge of the trees, she glanced around cautiously before advancing on the body, slowly, so as not to frighten whomever it was. He had a dagger, which wasn’t a heartening thought, but he was so weak that she might not be in danger anyways.

A foot or so away, she stopped, pursing her lips. She might be able to extend his life a little, enough to get him to help- if there was any help to be found. She wasn’t even sure what was wrong with him. As well, it was extremely dangerous, mostly for her. She was weak enough already, and taking on a quickly dying person might be enough to push her into Death’s cold embrace. But, she had to try. She was quite well rested and healthy for once- although in comparison to a normal person, she was rather sickly- so it might just work. Firstly, however, to ask permission.

“Excuse me... sir?” She said timidly, wrapping the cloak around her. “You do not seem well... would I be able to help you at all? I... I could get you to help, if you need it... you just need to say so.”

Well of course she wasn’t going to tell him exactly how she was going to manage that. He’d think she was insane and bluntly refuse, as anyone would do. Well, except other necromancers, maybe. Normal people didn’t seem to like having their life-force fiddled with.

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien had lay there for hours. Or, it seemed like hours, at least. In reality, it had been mere seconds. He was oblivious to the figure slowly approaching until she spoke. The tentative voice made it through the fog in his head and he took a few seconds to register that she was asking if he needed help.

He turned his head in her direction and opened his eyes, the small movements sending sharp stabs of pain throughout his body. He cringed, if only slightly, ignoring the electrical sensation. He focused blurry vision on the one standing not far from where he lay. He closed his eyes again after a moment - the light made his pounding headache worse.

"You have the cure?" He said, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper.

He didn't like being so helpless, and even more he hated to ask for help from strangers. He wasn't afraid of death, and were he to die, any other time he would be fine with that. After all, it was his own stupid mistake that got him poisoned - he deserved it for failing in what he was sent out to do. But if that man was still alive, still free, everyone was in danger. Everyone. So if this person happened to know how to cure him, he would be forever grateful. If not...

"If not, you can't help me - except for to kill me," He finished. He wanted to tell her about the danger, but he didn't know if he could trust her. Heck, for all he knew she was one of the goons following him, and was going to help, only to torture him for information later. These thoughts swirled lazily in his mind, not really causing worry, being drowned out behind more basic emotions - pain, hate, disgust with himself, his failure.

[Lujayn]

“I’m not going to kill you!” Aneira grumbled. “I don’t have a cure, but... I have a way to keep you alive long enough to find a cure. It’s risky, and it might end up killing you... but you’re rather close to death anyways, so that’s not too bad, is it?”

How comforting.

“Hmm.... I don’t suppose you could stay alive for about... ten more minutes? I could keep you around if you died, of course, but you wouldn’t like it much. Being undead does that to people, I’ve noticed,” she murmured. If she didn’t get on with her plan, he would most likely die at this rate. “Erm... I’ll get started, then.”

She reached into one of her myriad of pouches, pulling out a vial of a strange, chalky white substance, which she used to mark out an odd-looking pentagram around the guy. She reached into more of the pouches, scattering some more strange powders within and around the pentagram, as well as on the dying man. She stood at the top of the pentagram, by his head. “Now... this might feel a little weird,” she explained, “I’m going to, basically, tie your life-force to mine. So, as long as I’m alive, you can’t die from... whatever it is that’s killing you. That being said, if I ever die while you’re connected to me, even if you’re perfectly well, you will also die. But your only other option is dying right now...” She stopped, and sighed. “I’ll stop talking and get this over with.”

She began chanting, a haunting sort of language that was part Latin, part something sinister, coupled with obscure hand gestures. She opened herself to the Death Flow around her, bringing it in, directing it, towards the dying man. She could see his life-force, wavering feebly in the Flow, close to being washed away. “Oh, dear...” she murmured, and went towards it. “This shouldn’t take too long...”

She reached out, holding a dim strand of her own life-force, casting it out and around the man’s. A few more hand gestures, and it was tied around, and a few more words connected them. That was when she truly felt how his life-force was suffering- pain flashed through her being, and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, to keep herself from crying out and botching the spell. She finished it, as quickly as she dared, before drawing herself back into her body, wavering and then collapsing to her knees.

She tasted blood, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “There...” she gasped, fatique washing through her at the effort of carrying on her life and his. “You’re going to be feeling... very weak, but any... any pain and... adverse... side-effects of... whatever is killing you... should be averted...” Her vision blurred and spun. “Oops... I can’t see very well...” A slightly nervous laugh. “Well, neither of us are dead, so that’s all well and good, isn’t it?”

Aneira certainly looked close enough to being dead, with her face so pale and her body shivering. “Ah, so...” she continued, struggling to keep a hold on consciousness. “Who are you, and why are you dying?”

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien struggled to grasp what she was saying. Something about life forces and his life. She sounded like she was talking over a ridiculously long distance.

He got the gist of what was being said - something about tying his life force to hers, He;d no clue what any of it meant, but it didn't sound like something that he would normally agree to. He tried to mumble a refusal, but he couldn't seem to make his voice work anymore.

Then she was doing something or another, circling him with what looked like chalk and speaking in a language he couldn't understand. He suddenly felt a bit lightheaded, then...nothing. His body tingled slightly remembering the intense pain that was suddenly dimmed to something far more manageable, almost ignorable. He could see and think clearly, and quickly assessed the situation. He didn't quite remember what had happened within the past hour, but she had done something to make him better, and now whoever it was that had saved him looked quite the worse for wear.

He sat up with a grimace, his muscles threatening to fail him. He felt weak, as she said he would, and a bit dizzy, probably from the heat. Wordlessly he dug around his person and pulled out a small vial. It held a bitter liquid that helped battle-weary soldiers with all sorts of small ailments. He held it out to her.

"First, drink this. I don't know what you did, but I'm in a better condition than I was, and you're struggling to stay awake." He still didn't trust her - which was to be expected, he hadn't much trust for people in general - but he was going to repay her somehow, and figured it was as good a way as any to start.

"My name is Damien. To put a long story short, I was poisoned." He looked down at himself, still not quite sure how he was alive.

"If you're up to it, mind telling me what you just did to me?" She seemed on the verge of passing out, which he hoped the stuff he gave her would take care of, at least a little bit. "If not, you should probably rest," He added. Now that he was able to see straight, she looked pretty exhausted.

[Lujayn]

Aneira blinked, looking almost as if she didn’t understand what he was saying, then shook her head a little. “I’ll be alright,” she said with a small smile, “I’m not coughing up blood yet, so I’m actually far better off than I normally am. Necromancy is just... very exhausting. The Death Flow is very punishing to its manipulators...” She rubbed the heels of her hand into her eyes, trying to wake herself up a little. She glanced at the vial he offered her. Even though she’d just risked her life to save him, she didn’t know him that well, and was suspicious of whatever was in there.

Then again, why would someone try to off the one who had just saved their life? Potentially, anyways. She reached out and took the vial, peering into it before taking a sip. Whatever it was, it made her feel a bit better.

“Poisoned...” she murmured, “Well, that more or less fits with the pain I felt...” She shook her head a bit to clear her mind, and smiled again. “My name is Aneira Nemore. Also called “Nex” but you can just ignore that stupid joke of a nickname...” This last part was grumbled with annoyance. “As for what I did to you... well, I already explained that, but you were dying, so I’m not too surprised you don’t remember...”

She paused to cough, which didn’t sound all too good. “Well, I’ll explain the best I can. My craft is Necromancy, and it deals with the Death Flow, which is extremely hard to explain so I’m not going to even try. Let’s just leave it as an almost sentient source of power. Using it, I can reanimate corpses, or briefly bring the newly dead to life, among other things. It can also be used on the living, although we don’t do that much since most people hate us quite a lot.

“Now, everyone has what is known as a ‘life-force’. Or, a soul, if you will. It’s what keeps us going, and when we die, it is extinguished and moves on to... whatever is after death. Using my power, I was able to connect your life-force to mine, keeping you alive. What is happening is, basically, your life-force is living my life, hence why you feel so weak. I am a naturally weak person due to various reasons. You’ll get over that soon enough, however, once your life-force remembers it’s not me, but you. But you won’t be feeling any of the effects of this poison, giving us time to find you a cure.”

She paused. “Also, you must remain within a certain distance of myself, or you’ll die. And for the time we’re connected, if I die, you’ll die, as I am the only thing keeping you in this realm of existence.” She laughed a little then. “Ironic, isn’t it, that your life is not only being kept in the hands of a total stranger, but in one that deals with death?”

She started coughing again, more violent sounding than before. She looked a little paler, her lips turning a faint shade of blue. At the rate she seemed to be going, Damien would probably think he wasn’t going to last the day.

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien listened intently as she explained the art of Necromancy. He eyed her, knowing that she was likely telling the truth. The story fit, and if she was going to lie to him, she would have probably though of something more believable. He'd never even heard of Neromancy.

He blinked, sorting the thoughts that raced through his head. She saved him, but she basically held his life in her own. If she died, he went with her. He was not exactly pleased upon hearing that, in fact it rather disturbed him, but he but did nothing to betray what he was thinking. The fact that his existance was held on some one elses whim was somewhat unsettling.

She coughed, sounding like she was on death's doorstep herself, to his alarm.

Okay, He thought to himself. So I'm alive...but for how much longer?

"Thank you then, for keeping me alive," He said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "But doing something like this is obviously hard on you. It would have been easier to let me die out there, to just walk away." He thought about how much to give away.

"For all you had known, I could have had some contagious disease without a cure. So, if I can ask this without sounding rude, why did you do it? Why save me over just walking away?"

He hoped he didn't come off as a jerk. He was honestly grateful, but it was hard to erase suspicion. In his life he didn't have much luck with finding people that were worth anything, let alone that could be trusted. In his line of work, those kind were few and far between.

[Lujayn]

She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it, taking on a puzzled expression. She opened her mouth again, and once more shut it. A short silence, and then she responded with, “I’m... I’m not really sure... why did I?” She thought some more, putting a finger to her lips. “I suppose... just because I could? I mean, I have this power, and for the most part it isn’t very useful to others... in fact, most of the time it’s used to harm others, hence why whenever anyone finds out what I am, they try to kill me.”

She touched the back of her head, frowning at the memory. “Hence why I’m as... sickly as I am. Do not worry about dying soon, however. I’m almost always like this, and it’s fairly easy to remedy, as much as I dislike the method. As for if you had an incurable disease, well... with magic abundant, is there truly such a thing? And you were merely poisoned, so it’s alright.”

Aneira looked at him again, suspicious. “Now, here’s a far better question: why were you poisoned? I do hope you have a good answer for this one, for I would hate to have to cut at your life after going through such trouble to tether you to this plane of existence.”

For once, she looked fairly threatening, with her piercing, pale eyes. Perhaps it was merely because she held his life in her hands, but there was something rather disturbing about her then, oddly confident in her power and what she could do with it. Then she smiled, and the sickly girl returned. “Of course, I won’t have to, right?”

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien listened to her explanation. It didn't go far in the way of a satisfying answer, but he nodded his head anyways, accepting it. His sister was the same way when they were younger - always out to help others without a real explanation why.

At Aneira's next question, he immediately took on a guarded expression, eying her sharply. His grip on his sword hilt inaudibly tightened, but he made no hostile moves. This was as good a time as any to find out if she was on her own or not.

"Why?" He repeated the question, then hesitated a beat before continuing. "I was hired for an assassination job. I messed up. It was my own fault." He said. The back of his mind raised warning bells - telling someone that you were hired to kill people often didn't set well with them. He hoped that she was different and wasn't going to kill him for it.

He also knew that the explanation he gave wasn't going to cut it.

"I was sent out to an army camp four days from here to do away with Anroth, their commander, posing as a royal messenger. He invited me to dinner, but, little did I know, I was caught poisoning his food. So they switched the plates around, and gave me the poisoned one." He scowled, remembering it clearly, and studied her, watching for any reactions to what he'd said. It was a very undetailed explanation, but in time he'd tell more. Maybe, with her arts and everything, she could even prove to be helpful.

[Lujayn]

Aneira watched him, unblinking, while Damien explained how he had become poisoned. She was silent for a few minutes afterwards, and not much could be guessed with her expression. Then she tapped a finger to her lips and looked upwards in thought. “Hmmm, I do not know this ‘Anroth’ character. For all I know he is a monster from the sea, or anything else for that matter. As it stands, I shall pretend you were attempting to do the world a favour in killing him, and leave it at that.” She smiled again. “We both have occupations we do not wish to divulge, do we not? You an assassin, I a necromancer. Both disliked by the masses.”

She stood, a little wobbly but that was more or less normal to her. “I suppose we should look for a town or village around this lake... I usually make it a habit to avoid those places, but you need to find a cure and we both need something to eat.” She poked around her bags until she found the one containing her purse, and peered inside. “Um... hmm, I might... nope.” She sighed, and closed the bag. “I suppose I have some charms to try selling.” A hilarious alarmed expression crossed her face at that moment. “Do I even have the materials to make them?!” This cued a furious search through her bags. It was quite an amusing sight, really, especially considering the number of small bags on her person.

[WolfEnchantress]

He let out a small sigh of relief when she accepted the explanation without further prodding. He nodded at her next observation of them both being not particularly liked. There had been too many attempts on his life to count anymore, but none had come even close to being successful.

Except for this one. That was he bad thing about being good at what you did - if it backfired, you would probably die.

Then ensued Aneira's furious search of her person, looking fir something or another. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a small smile despite himself - she was fairly amusing. He rose to his feet, re-clipping his sword to his belt and sliding the dagger back in the sheath on his leg - one of many hidden on his person. He straightened his cloak, which was black like the rest of his clothing, and using water from his waterskin wiped off the blood on his face and arms. He still felt weak, like his limbs were made of rubber, and he placed a hand on a tree to steady himself.

"I have money," He said, "if that is what the fuss is about." He had quite a sum of money, actually, a small fortune - the first half of the payment for killing Anroth. He would get the second half on the deadline he was given. If the deed wasn't done by then, it was his own life. "And I doubt there will be a cure in town. There may be if there is a dark magician's shop, but those are pretty rare." He had no idea what she was talking about - telling or whatever she'd said - but she didn't want her to use her energy on doing something that may be unnecessary. After all, her life, her strangth was his as well.

[Lujayn]

“I’m looking for the materials I use to create charms...” she muttered, still poking through her bags. “You know, the ones that prevent pregnancy, or encourage it, and the like? I have a small ability in what is known as “petty magics”, and I use it to get money for myself...” She gave up at that point. “Except I have none of the materials...” She sighed. Then looked up. “Wait. You have money? Oh, that’s very good, then. Crisis solved.” She rearranged her bags, and straightened her cloak.

“As for whether or not there’s a cure in town... well, we won’t know unless we go there, and even if there’s not, you and I still need to eat. And sleep.” She gave him a slightly accusatory look. “You woke me up from mine.”

Aneira grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her. “Come on, then. The nearest town cannot be that far away, I’ve seen fishing boats on the lake more than once. We can get some food, and rest perhaps. Maybe ask people if they know of a famous healer somewhere.”

[WolfEnchantress]

Damien blinked, wondering to himself just how it was she pllanned on using things like that to get money, grinning slightly at her sudden panic and how quickly it had gone away.

At her next remark, he shrugged.
"Well, I'm sorry if my dying is too loud for you," He said. "Next time I'll try to be a bit quieter as to not disturb your rest." He rolled his eyes.

"As for eating, I could go for something." He hadn't eaten much since his last poisoned meal.

She pulled him towards town and he followed, though he gently pulled his arm back. The only human contact he really was accustomed to was the violent type. Even holding out a casual conversation was a bit odd - he was usually alone, glares and the occasional nasty threat preventing potentially friendly - or dangerous - people from approaching him unless they needed something. In the line of work he did, no one was trustworthy. In some cases like his, not even family.

"Allright then, you probably know this place better than I do," He said truthfully. He'd been to this town once before, but it was at night on the outskirts of the area. "You lead, I'll follow." Another phrase foreign on his tongue.

[Lujayn]

Aneira smiled at him. “Okay.” She was surprisingly trusting of a man who had just admitted he was an assassin; most people would be trying to put some distance between them. Then again, most people didn’t have said assassin’s life in their hands. That usually bolstered the confidence of one just a bit.

“This town is supposed to have a very good fish market,” she said, more as way to make conversation than anything else. She didn’t normally get to talk to people often, besides vending her charms, so it was nice. She’d heard stories of people who didn’t get enough human contact and went crazy, and Aneira didn’t particularly like that idea. “Though if you’re not into fish, there are other things to buy... just not as cheap.”

Aneira was used to pinching pennies. Even if she had the ability to do so, she would not relish spending extravagantly.

She turned to Damien. “Is there anything, other than food, that you require?” She paused. “Other than the cure, of course. Clothes, or anything..?”

[WolfEnchantress]

He was rather surprised that she didn't react upon finding out that he killed people for a living. Sometimes totally innocent people. Then again, it's not like if he chose to he could do anything to hurt her. He would die too.Strangely, however, he didn't mind her presence, even knowing that she could turn around and end his existence on her own whim.

The fact that there was a good fish market didn't surprise him - they were on a lake, after all. He didn't mind fish, which was a good thing.

"Price isn't a problem," He said. He was paid handsomely for what he did, and being good at it yielded higher payouts. He;d been dirt poor, once, and knew what it was like. Now, having enough to live off of and some extra, he tended to be a bit careless, even though he knew it was going to come back and bite him one day.

"Do i need anything?" He repeated the question with a hint of puzzlement, thinking it over. "no, nothing." Someday he was going to replace the throwing knives he'd lost, but not today. He'd go somewhere else for that. He glanced over to her.

"What about you? Do you need anything, other than the obvious food and sleep? Or want anything? We can get it here, probably."