A Walk Through the Woods (Solo)

[Limbo]

A Walk Through the Woods.

"Saqqara!" The voice of Oleander called. "Hold my bag." From behind him another voice groaned.

"I am not some... mule!" Said Saqqara, a man of dark skin and round features, his face covered in beautiful golden script, each tattooed with care and reverence. Now scrunched in a deep scowl. "I am a Diabolist of the 19th choir! I bind to me demons that can shape mountains! I am over two thousand years old! I have commited scripts and texts to memory that are volumes long! I am-" mid rant, the Diabolist was interrupted by the Chemist known as Oleander Fell.

"Saqqara, you are what I say you are. Aren't you?" Oleander said to his companion taking the tone of a parent scolding a child. "Because last I checked, I am the one in possession of your heart. You belong to me." Oleander tossed his bag into the scowling Diabolists arms and continued onwards. The path they decided to take is one few have traveled, Oleander noted, due to the forest slowly retaking the road. Oleander ran a hand over the bush they passed, stirring some birds to flight. It was a good day for harvesting materials.

Oleander began to hum and he walked, the same tune his parents sung to him as he tried to sleep. It was strange to be sure. Saqqara grumbled but he paid him no mind. Stopping suddenly, Oleander crouched down to one knee; Withdrawing a short bow and knocking an arrow, he took aim at a perticular bird. The bird was one foot in height and grey in color save for a single stripe of bright red. Lining up a shot, he let the arrow fly. With a loud squawk, the bird fell from it perch and into the bushes. "Do fetch that for me, would you?" He said with a smug grin. The only response the Diabolist gave was a sigh and a few muttered insults.

[Limbo]

And so did the pair continue onwards. Saqqara, thrall make to Oleander, never liked the scientist who held his leash. Though that's a given when said person owns the one thing that binds you to this plane. Saqqara was once human, still is on most accounts, save for his pseudo phylactery.

Saqqara is what one might call a litch. However instead of a walking skeleton commanding a host of undead, he was a living body that commands a legion of demons. Or, rather he did. His rise to power was cut short, not by and army of heroes, not by the accursed anti-mages that this country is so fond of using; no his rise to power was ended by one man and a drugged bottle of wine. Saqqara, under the influence of whatever the spider gave him, divulged his secrets to the nine times damned poisoner.

The Diabolists scowl deepened at the memory.

Oh how foolish he was, he thought himself invincible and let his guard down for but a moment. This was a lesson he will not forget unto his dying day, which hopefully will be well after he watches Oleander burn in a pit of living fire. That will be the day Saqqara can smile once more. Until then however, he must wait and bide his time. Eventually Oleander will slip up, it may not be today, but one day he will have his revenge.

"Saqqara, we will be coming up to a town soon," his master warned. Saqqara knew what that meant, and threw his hood over his tattooed head. How he hated this country, so ignorant they were to the truth of the world. They denounce the very fabric of existence as heresy! What stupidity! Oh, he loathed them but he did not hate them over much. For Saqqara pitied the folk, for they knew not of true beauty.

As he and Oleander passed into the village, he spied a boy no older than five. This one he could tell is gifted. With proper training and time, he could rival the best from back home. But alas, his only fate would be death or worse should he be found. Such waisted potential.

[Limbo]

Oleander ignored the stares. But he couldn't help crack a smile at the more... angry ones. He was a trespasser who looked like a noble, dressed like a noble, and walked like a noble; so therefore an evil tax collector looking to rob them of the hard earned shillings.

How quaint.

Oleander and Saqqara walked through the streets of the small village without any trouble. Though Oleander noted two figures, man and woman respectively, following form a distance. From the grimace worn by his charge he could accurately assume at least one of the two were those mordecai. What one of those rare beauties is doing in this podunk town, he didn't really care. If they interfered, then that's just one more item to check off his list of materiels.

The two stalkers separated suddenly, but overall Oleander wasn't overly concerned. He has plans for situations like this. Though he couldn't default to his usual 'make Saqqara summon a bunch of demons' contingency. But things like Mordecai require a more delicate touch. Reguardless, he needs to be ready invade they decide to get brave. Saqqara on the other had was nervous, that much he could tell. If the darting eyes and tense shoulders mean anything. But it's understandable seeing as he is the mage being hunted by mage hunters.

"Master," Saqqara grits out through clenched teeth. "I assume you are aware of our stalkers?"

Oleander merely smiled and gave a curt nod back. Because of course the paranoid bastard knew. Saqqara could quite literally feel his body recoil at the mere presence of the Mordecai. He wanted nothing more than to run. But knowing full and well he can't on pain of death made him irate.

Instead of trying to escape the would be stalkers, Oleander decided to walk into the local healers store. Though in truth it was more akin to some sort of a museum of archaic devices of healing. Gone was the refined and sterile environment he was so use to in other shops of the like, an in its place was a hodge podge of fictitious cure all remedies. Snake oil, leeches, everything any doctor worth his or her snuff knows are less than useful. He sighed and couldn't help but massage his temples.

Saqqara meanwhile was panicking. Though, through no fault of his own. The prospect of being caught by the mage hunters was not something he wants to experience again. Thankfully all wounds heal with time. But the tattoos... those are difficult.