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To Kill a Mage (Minfeveer)

Started by HighLordMhoram, July 30, 2017, 04:54:26 AM

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HighLordMhoram

With the deaths of the mordecai, Graven suddenly felt his magic released. At the same instant, the Connlaothans whirled to find their commander falling to the ground, his body crackling with electricity, Fawn standing behind him. Graven's men took full advantage of the momentary distraction, leaping back into the fray. For his part, Graven got on his knees and stabbed his dagger into the neck of a fallen soldier. In moments, the body had received enough life energy that the mane blinked and sat up. He looked at Graven with a questioning expression, but all the animancer had to do was point at the battle and say, "Go! Kill the men in uniform." Having no idea what else to do, the newly made once-dead lurched to his feet, seized a fallen rifle, and charged into battle, killing one of his former comrades from behind.

There were only four of Graven's squad left; himself, Fawn, and two of his men. There should have been no way that the remaining twenty five or so Connlaothans could lose. But attacked from behind, without their mordecai,with their leader dead and their own dead friends rising against them, they broke. The survivors turned and bolted down the mountain in a panic, desperate to escape the nightmare they had walked into. Graven let his men pursue them; he couldn't allow the enemy to reform further down the mountain. He went from corpse to corpse, raising more Connlaothan soldier until more than a dozen were streaming down after the routers. Then, utterly exhausted, he sat heavily on the blood-soaked rock, surrounded by bodies.

Minfever

Fawn watched as Graven lead the initiative to finish off the Connlaothian men.  She watched as body after dead body regained its life and rose to fight again, only for a different side.  Her abdomen was bleeding profusely as a bullet had pushed through her flesh just below her ribs on her right side and exited through her back.  She shifted back into her natural form, fully visible again, and saw a bloodied and weary Graven sit himself upon a boulder. 

She couldn't help but take in the scene over and over again, internalizing how all of this had been her fault.  She looked upon the mass of bodies with their blood painting the mountain a horrid burgundy.  For a moment, she was still, clutching her side delicately and gazing on the bloodshed.  The then wiped her blade on her shirt and walked quietly over to Graven.

Fawn extended the dagger he had fashioned for her to him, as if to give it back.

"You're hurt." she dropped the blade at his feet and knelt down on one knee with a wince, then reached out to touch him and heal him.

She had enough energy to heal his wounds, but she would wait to take care of her own.  It was a nuisance but nothing life threatening, and she would have time to rest and address it soon.

HighLordMhoram

Graven looked up at Fawn as she approached. He took the knife back readily; it had been a slapdash affair to get it ready to be her focus, and it would likely break or become ineffective over a longer period of time. He would have to make a new one, and take his time with it.

When Fawn knelt to heal his wound, however, he pushed her hand away gently. "It seems that you're more in need of care than me," he said. "You need to see to that belly wound. I'll live for now." He held up a hand to forestall any objections she might have. "No arguments. I'd rather not have you pass out from infection halfway through healing me. It would be somewhat awkward." He looked about the battlefield with a sigh, suppressing a wince as pain flared in his shoulder.

"I probably spent more energy on this battlefield than I have over the course of my entire life," he said. "I had maybe four hundred years' worth of life stored up inside me before. I must have spent nearly all of it raising those soldiers. Hell, I might have tapped into my own natural lifespan."

Minfever

Fawn was hurt a bit by his comment.  Awkward if she were to pass out while treating him?  She sighed and stood up, dusting her hands off on her trousers.  If he didn't want help, she wouldn't give it.  She knew he was being aloof for a reason, and perhaps she deserved his disdain.  Nevertheless, he could take care of himself if he wanted to.

She allowed the wound to close itself, and it did, rapidly.  Soon, the pain ebbed and a wave of relief swam through her once aching body.

"I'm sorry, Graven."

She let her words linger.  She hadn't said it until now, but she was sorry.  For everything.

A sudden realization came to mind as she looked about, "What about Orson...  Did he make it?"

Despite her irritation with him, Orson had been a faithful protector of Graven, and had seen through her facade from the very first day.  If he had been slain, she would feel even worse.

HighLordMhoram

Graven felt some relief as Fawn healed her injuries. He hadn't wanted to appear cold to her, but she had needed that healing more than him. At her apology, he simply said, "I know." It was not forgiveness, but neither was it condemnation.

When she inquired after Orson, Graven felt exhaustion seep into his bones. The once-dead had been his oldest and most faithful companion. He was a constant in Graven's daily life. But reason had him saying, "Probably not. The soldiers were coming back down from his position when you killed their commander. It's likely that he and all the others were killed up there." Still, he got to his feet and began to make his way up to Orson's position. He owed his old friend enough to at least confirm his death.

Minfever

Fawn looked down when he acknowledged her apology.  It wasn't as if she had expected her apology to mend any wounds.  She knew she had made a terrible mistake.

As Graven stood and retreated to where Orson had last been seen, she was a bit surprised that he hadn't ensured that she go with him.  She wasn't yet exactly sure if she was free to leave.  She wasn't sure of anything, just yet.  But it seemed he trusted her enough not to take flight and so she followed him silently behind.  She hoped that Orson was only very injured.  A part of her had taken a liking to him, despite the fact that they would never be on good terms.

The air was suddenly cold and a thunderous clap could be heard throughout the sky.  Lightning accompanied it and Fawn realized how dark the clouds had become.  She knew it was going to be a particularly stormy night, a perfect setting for the mood she was in.

HighLordMhoram

The first rain drops were beginning to fall when Graven crested the rise and entered another field of slaughter. Connlaothans and the men he had placed on the ridge lay scattered and broken on the ground. Picking his way through the corpses, he searched their faces for the one he was looking for. Finally, he found Orson's body under two Connlathans. His second's eyes stared sightlessly at the sky, a dagger sticking from his chest. Graven knelt there in silence, staring at his oldest ally, perhaps his only friend. The rain was falling harder now, practically a torrent, washing away the blood of the tbattle as though nothing had happened.

Minfever

Graven's silence allowed for the storm to be fully heard, an echo, no doubt, of the feelings inside of both he and Fawn.  It was a fitting setting for the discovery of Orson's death, as if the earth were grieving with Graven.  Fawn's heart clenched at the sight.  She had ruined Graven's life.  In a matter of days, she had been the torrent that swept through his comfortable life and tore it asunder.  There was no telling what sort of life he would lead now, if he would even be safe from the Connlaothians and their mordecai.  Who would help protect his home?  Who would be his second?  Fawn swallowed hard against the barrage of emotions pushing their way through to the surface.  She was as silent as he, uncertain of what she should say, uncertain of what she could say, if anything at all.  She wished, like a child, that somehow she could go back and prevent their ever meeting each other, her ever signing the contract.  It was the first time in her entire career that she had ever seen the real impact of her work and how it destroyed lives.  The guilt over her life's choices, which she had already felt but had become numb to over the years, was suddenly reawakened and compounded as she watched Graven inspect his friend's untimely death.  She had fooled herself, all of those years, into believing that if she just destroyed the people who were truly evil she would be a vigilante of sorts.  This was how she had dealt with her guilt.  She had never stopped to examine her pride and consider that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have the right or the ability to determine whether a person deserved to live or die.  But she was certain of one thing...

"You should kill me."

The words poured out of her mouth without filter, filled with a serious sincerity.

"You have no other choice.  You have no men left, no protection.  It only makes sense, Graven, that your last task would be to destroy the one who destroyed you.  You would be a fool to do otherwise."

Her voice was cold.  Maybe she wanted to die, wanted him to kill her.  Maybe the real punishment would be to let her live.

She sighed and knelt down next to him, careful to give him his space, and wrapped her arms around her knees as she stared at Orson's lifeless body.

"If that is what you decide to do, Graven...  I won't fight it."

HighLordMhoram

Graven's gaze flicked from Orson's body to Fawn as she began to speak. He stared disbelievingly at her as she said her piece, then sat nearby and waited for him to exact his vengeance. Graven felt his shoulders begin to shake. Then he lifted his head and laughed. It was a bittersweet sound, grief mixed with anger, disbelief and even genuine humor. He laughed long and hard as the rain soaked him to the bone.

Finally, his laughter trailed off, and he wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. "You think I want to kill you? After everything you've done?" He reached across Orson's body and grasped Fawn's hand. "Do you think these soldiers wouldn't have come anyways without your being here? Do you think we would have been anywhere near as prepared if you hadn't warned me in advance? Would their mordecai and their commander be lying dead right now? Fawn, you saved me."

"I still don't know how to fully trust you," he continued, his tone becoming more serious. "I'm not sure how much of last night was genuine feelings, or simply the result of years of loneliness. I don't know if we can ever be together that way again. But one thing I do know is that killing you is the very last thing I  want right now. I owe you my life, and I know Orson would say the same thing if he were still alive."

The sound of footsteps on the path behind him, made Graven turn his head. His two remaining men and the dead he had raised at the last minute emerged onto the ridge and formed a half circle before their leader. The two originals saw Orson's body and bowed their heads slightly in reverence. "What are your orders, sir?" One of them asked. Graven knew their names by heart--Bron and Cal. He released Fawn's hand and stood up.

"First things first, we have to pack up our things and leave the caves. They know where we live now, as we need to relocate before the survivors gather a larger force and come back." It would be a shame to leave the caves he had built up for nearly four decades, but it was a necessary sacrifice. He looked down at Fawn. "What will you do?" he asked softly. Lightning cracked overhead. "Will you come with us?"


Minfever

His laughter surprised her, and at first, she felt as though he were making fun of her.  It wasn't until he spoke and took her hand that she softened.

His words hurt a bit, but she understood.  He wasn't sure what his feelings were for her, and though she was probably more certain of her own, they were newly discovered and she couldn't even begin to know the depth of them yet.

As the two last remaining men ascended the rise, and Graven offered that she should come with them, a bittersweet feeling overcame her.

There was no reason to stay.  She could help him find a new place, move his items, but a part of her wanted to leave.  After all they had been through over the last few days, she needed to breathe, to process her feelings alone.  She had never stayed in one place before, and it wasn't in her nature to do so now.  Not, yet.  Had she any reassurance of his feelings for her she might've considered a different path, but until he could give her a good reason to stay, she had none.  It was better to part knowing that there was something, if anything, between them, be it friendship or romance, than to stay not knowing if there was anything more than that.

Her eyes gazed around her for a moment at his final question, which she hadn't yet answered.  Then, she met his gaze.

"No."

She was quiet for a moment, then thought she ought to offer some kind of explanation.

"I barely remember, but I was supposed to have been three when I first found myself alone.  I've been alone ever since then, scraping my way by, climbing the ladder of crime, relying on no one else but myself.  I endured the wanting touch of men and accepted the darkness inside me that allowed me to murder first the innocent, then the depraved.  All this to say that it helped me to survive, to remain cold to the world.  I think you know the sort of necessary callousness it takes to keep yourself alive.  It eventually became easy to be hardened."

She took a step forward and reached up to place a hand on his cheek, "Until, I met you."

She let the words linger for a moment, then allowed her hand to leave his cheek and return to her side, "There's something about you, Graven, that I can't describe.  Maybe it's simply that we're alike in some ways, but you soften me.  It's dangerous to know that you have had that effect on me.  A different person might bear the sacrifice and stay with you to find out if there's anything more to those feelings that refuse to be understood.  But I can't afford that kind of vulnerability.  I can't go with you relying on something that may never be."

The thunderous rumble traveled the air above them.  She didn't want to admit that she simply didn't want to be hurt by him.

"I'm far too smart for that." her words were both meant as a reply to her thoughts and also to finish her words to him.

HighLordMhoram

Graven listened to her speech, forcing himself to keep his face a blank slate as she described the horrors she had gone through, the things she had done. When she placed a hand on his cheek and revealed her feelings on him, he felt a painful ache inside of himself. He didn't truly know who Fawn was, but he wanted to learn. And now he would never get that chance.

"I understand," he said, his voice rough with emotions that seemed to clog his throat. "I wish things were different, but I understand how you feel. Just do me a favor, huh?" He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Don't harden your heart too much. If you do, it'll break too easily." Then he stepped back, letting her see the sadness and acceptance in his eyes as he moved aside to allow her to go on her way.

Minfever

Quote from: HighLordMhoram on August 08, 2017, 06:42:53 AM
Graven listened to her speech, forcing himself to keep his face a blank slate as she described the horrors she had gone through, the things she had done. When she placed a hand on his cheek and revealed her feelings on him, he felt a painful ache inside of himself. He didn't truly know who Fawn was, but he wanted to learn. And now he would never get that chance.

"I understand," he said, his voice rough with emotions that seemed to clog his throat. "I wish things were different, but I understand how you feel. Just do me a favor, huh?" He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Don't harden your heart too much. If you do, it'll break too easily." Then he stepped back, letting her see the sadness and acceptance in his eyes as he moved aside to allow her to go on her way.


Fawn smiled a little and stepped through the space he had left for her to leave, and as she walked her form began to fade until she was seemingly gone.  There was so much to process, she hoped that she would have a peaceful few weeks to mull over everything that had happened.

***THREE MONTHS LATER***

But, as life often does the opposite of what we wish for, she was afforded no such luxury.

It wasn't long before Fawn found herself ascending the side of the mountain she had left just months ago, but this time, in a panic for her life.

It was raining, just as it had been the day she left Graven, soaking through her clothing and leaving her deathly pale with cold.  Her body shivered as she clambered up through the rough terrain, pulling herself up and over a protrusion of rock.  She scrambled over it and remained on her feet, flying between the upcoming trees.  A bullet flew by her and she dipped behind a tree trunk, allowing herself to catch her breath for a moment.  She closed her eyes tightly and cursed to herself as she lifted her face to the sky, her ears taking in every sound around her.  Suddenly, she couldn't hear her enemy.  Should she make a run for it?  She took her chances and took off like a trail of lightning between the trees.  She was quickly ascending the mountain, finding herself lost as she took detours to throw her enemy off the scent.  It was then that she heard the crack of a musket and nearly simultaneously felt the impact just below her left shoulder blade.  She lost her footing and lurched forward, crashing into the ground.  For a moment, her head reeled and she couldn't move until finally, her vision began to clear.  She struggled to her feet and spotted a small alcove in the side of the mountain, just large enough to cover her form.  She sprang for it and slipped within the protective stone, panting as quietly as she could as she pressed herself into the mountain, hoping to lose the mordecai that remained at her heels.

HighLordMhoram

"She went this way!" A voice called out nearby. "Follow me." Footsteps thundered up towards her hiding place, marked by occasional splashes as a soldier stepped into a puddle. The footsteps slowed near where Fawn had hidden herself. "She's got to be around here somewhere," a voice growled. "Keep looking!" The group began to fan out, each going in separate directions. One of the men began searching dangerously near Fawn's hideout.

Slow minutes passed as the man searched every nook and cranny, each step bringing him closer to the hiding shapeshifter. Lightning flickered in the sky at intervals, bathing the area in white light. Finally, the man peered into the alcove and saw Fawn. He grinned viciously. "Found you, bitch," he snarled. "Boys, I found here! Get over here!" There as no response. The mordecai frowned. "Boys?" he said, turning around...only to gasp and fall on his back, a dagger protruding from his chest. Lightning flashed again, illuminating crumpled bodies on the ground and three figures standing in the open, hooded and cloaked. One of them strode up to the dead mordecai and pulled out the dagger with a jerk. He looked up, saw Fawn, and his pale eyes widened. Immediately, he threw back his hood. "Fawn?" Graven said in wonder. "What in hell are you doing here?"

Meanwhile...

The church was mostly empty as the storm raged outside. No parishioners had come today to offer prayer to Ansgar, the storm keeping them in their homes. Only a bishop, a young woman, and her companion were in the vast hall. The priest stood before the other two, who knelt in reverence before the altar.

"In the name of Almighty Ansgar and Saint Adhara, I hereby anoint your holy mission with the blessing of the church," the bishop said, extending his arms wide. "The creature known as the Graven has long terrorized our lands, killing dutiful men and women and performing unholy acts within his mountain home. The shapeshifting deceiver betrayed us to his wickedness, and brought doom upon many a faithful servant of Connlaoth. Go forth, my children, and put an end to these criminals. Capture them if you can, slay them if you must, but above all else do not allow them to escape and continue spreading their taint across our beautiful country. With the blessing of Ansgar, go forth and set the world to right."

Helena Arlen raised her head at the bishop's words, his blessings and proclamation filling her with righteous determination. "We shall do as Ansgar demands, father," she replied. "By all that is good and holy, the necromancer and his accomplice shall be brought to justice." She turned ot her compatriot, wondering how they would respond to their mission.

Minfever

Thearon Rin kept his head bowed in silence, until the Bishop and Helena had spoken their piece.

"Indeed, they will meet a righteous end at our hands."

He lifted his head to meet the eyes of Helena, seeing the determination in her rise.  He, too, felt the holiness of their mission in his bones and nodded to Helena with resolve.

The Bishop bowed his head toward the two of them and said, "Then, let this holy mission... begin."

Thearon stood and extended a hand toward Helena to help her to her feet.  He nodded his head to the Priest and thanked him for his blessings.  He then began to walk with Helena across the hall, taking his time to observe the ornamentation of the edifice around them.

"How many men do we have?" he questioned as he stopped with hands behind his back to inspect a gilded statue.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Fawn's breath came rapidly now, the cold sending a quiver through each inhale and exhale.  The wound in her back screamed at her and she felt her stomach begin to churn with nausea.  She leaned forward, her hands placed on her knees to steady her, and she took several deep breaths.  After a moment, she regained herself and closed her eyes with one last exhale, and stood upright.  She was sopping wet, not an inch of her dry, and her clothes clung to her.  She wore tight female trousers and a tunic tucked into the waist.  She had been on the run almost from the moment she had left Graven, and hadn't had much of an occasion to find better clothing.  Her pale hair, soaked with rain, had been put up, and water dripped from her long eyelashes onto her cheeks.

"Graven." she acknowledged in a matter-of-fact way, "Fancy meeting you here."

She smiled and pushed a lock of wet hair behind her ear.

She stepped down from the alcove and suddenly regretted the movement, the bullet in her shoulder smarting with every adjustment her body made.

HighLordMhoram

Helena walked alongside Thearon, one hand resting easily on the pommel of her sword. Although she was a Knight of the White Lily, far rarer, more potent and therefore more valuable than a mordecai like Thearon, she readily accepted her subordinate role in this mission, knowing the man had far more experience in the field than she did.

In response to his question, she said, "Four mordecai, excluding yourself. A company of soldiers should we need them. However, seeing how things went last time..." The adhara ground her teeth as she thought of the dead strewn over the mountains. She had known each mordecai who had died personally. "Considering that, it might be best if we went for a small, stealthy team rather than a full-on assault. My anti-magic field will be able to cover everyone in the team in case that shifter starts slinging lightning." Her field extended a mere twenty feet, which was one the large end for adhara but pitifully small for a normal mordecai. Of course, unlike a mordecai, she could shield them from magical attacks outside of her range.

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Graven couldn't have been more surprised if he had found Ansgar himself in that crevice. He had never expected to see Fawn again, yet here she was. Her clothes clung to her form in a way that Graven found hard to ignore, but her wince of pain drew his attention to her shoulder, and all other thoughts left his mind at the sight.

"Gods, you look terrible," he said, hurrying forward and putting her arm over his shoulder to support her. "Bron, Cal!" he snapped. The two once dead looked up from searching the bodies of the soldiers. "We need to get moving now. Hurry it up." At once, he began to help Fawn along up the mountain, his men at their backs as a rearguard. After only a few minutes, they reached Graven's new base.

His new home was nowhere near as impressive as the original caverns Fawn had been led to the first time she met him. It was a large, dry hollow in the side of the mountain, scarcely more than an overgrown alcove itself. Bron set about making a fire, and in moments it was crackling merrily away in the middle of the cave, throwing up strange shadows against the walls. Graven led Fawn to a bedroll and set her down beside it. "You're going to have to strip out of those clothes," he said. "You'll catch your death otherwise. Dry off by the fire for a bit afterwards. We'll have some dry clothing for you. After that, you can explain to me what the hell you're still doing in Connlaoth."

Minfever

Thearon listened to Helena's tactical advice as he continued to walk down the hall, reaching out to touch certain decorations and stopping to inspect some of them.

"You know, it took me a long time to find Ansgar." he interjected, tapping his fingertip on yet another gilded statue, "Even now, from time to time, I have my doubts, as all of us do.  But nothing, nothing! has inspired me more than our mission here to destroy these murderers.  I want it to be perfect.  Nothing should go wrong."

He thought back to his son, a mordecai, who had lost his life in the last battle in which the shifter had betrayed them.

"That is why, Helena, I will defer to your wise guidance on how we should overtake them.  I will leave it to you to determine a tactical plan, and if you want it to be stealthy, then make it so.  As long as you think," he paused to add meaning to his words and looked her in the eyes, "that it cannot fail."

There was a darkness in him that revealed itself in his words, and his hand that had been languidly sitting atop the small gilded statue suddenly turned into a grip.

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Fawn appreciated the help back to the cavern as she was starting to feel as though she might pass out between the loss of blood and the terrible cold.  She felt her eyes grow heavy as they made their trek to the cave, but she fought against the call of her body to give in to the darkness.  When they arrived, she happily accepted her place next to the fire and the bedroll, comfort swimming through her.

It was strange to be back in the mountains with Graven.  She hadn't hoped to see him again, knowing that her path would likely take her outside of Connlaoth where Graven wouldn't care to go.  She pulled her tunic over her head with her good arm and threw it off to the side.  There was no shame to her now, not when her body so quickly needed warmth.  She pulled off her boots and stripped off her trousers only to be met quietly by one of his men with new items of clothing.  Gratefully, and shaking, she took them with a nod and began to don her new clothes.  She scooted closer to the fire holding the dry shirt to her breasts, not having put it on just yet.

"I need you to do me a favor, Graven." she glanced over at him, "I need one of you to get this bullet out of me before I can heal."

Part of her wished she hadn't said anything.  She didn't particularly look forward to having a knife digging into her flesh to find an invading bullet, but it had to be done or else she would heal over it.

HighLordMhoram

Helena stared at Thearon in shock. She had assumed that the older man would be the one leading this expedition. He had to be at least ten years her senior, and had much more experience in the field than her. But it seemed that sitting back and waiting for him to come up with a plan was out of the question now. His expression brooked no argument. In all honesty, the intensity he suddenly displayed was incredibly unnerving. Swallowing nervously, she nodded. "It will be done," she said, her voice sounding far more certain than she felt.

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Graven nodded and extended his hand towards Cal, palm up, and the once-dead placed a knife he had been heating over the fire into his master's hand. He walked up to Fawn and couched behind her back. "Put that shirt in your mouth. I don't want you biting your tongue out," he said. He adjusted his grip on the knife and studied the scabbed-over wound. This knife wasn't his focus, so he shouldn't start draining her life when he got to work...hopefully. Either way, that bullet had to come out somehow. He ripped away the scab, exposing the glistening red wound beneath, and slowly placed the tip of the knife inside.

Nothing. There was no spark of electricity to indicate that he was draining her. Graven breathed a sigh of relief, but went to work quickly. He pushed the knife ever so slightly deeper until he found the musket ball. "This is going to sting," he said in a calm voice. As he spoke, he used the knife tip to draw the ball out of the wound until it fell into his hand. "There we go," he said. "Easy as can be. Are you alright?" The heated edge of the knife would have been painful to feel, but it was the only way to make sure she didn't get an infection from the blade.

Minfever

Fawn bit down on the shirt, and hard.  She closed her eyes tightly against the searing pain just below her shoulder blade.  It took everything in her not to pull away from him as he withdrew the musket ball.  Tears filled her eyes as she held her breath, until finally, it was done.  She spat out the shirt and took a few breaths as she couldn't begin the healing process fast enough.  The wound, as quickly as it has been made, closed up leaving nothing but a few drops of blood behind.  She pulled her shirt over her head and nodded to Graven.

"Yes, I'm alright.  Thank you."

She leaned back on her hands with a sigh of relief as her body began to warm by the fire, and looked up at the top of the cave, at the intricate hills and valleys of the surface of the stone, feeling somehow lost in their patterns.  Then, she closed her eyes and pulled her hair from the tie that kept it up and let her hair fall over her shoulders, allowing it to dry along with the rest of her.

HighLordMhoram

Graven observed how Fawn's wound closed up with interest. He could do some basic healing when he had to, but he was sloppy and inexpert at the task. The shapeshifter's instinctive expertise left him somewhat in awe.sat down beside her, staring into the fire. For a while, the only sound was the pattering of the rain outside and the crackling of the flames, punctuated now and again by more thunder. Finally, he said, "Now, why don't you explain to me what exactly you're doing here? I expected you to be halfway across the world by now." He didn't add that he was pleased that she hadn't left; telling someone you were glad that they hadn't managed to escape the people trying to kill them didn't seem like the polite thing to say.

Minfever

"I expected so as well." Fawn replied, having crossed her legs and leaning forward, lifting her hands to the heat of the fire, "I was on the run almost from the moment I left you.  Mordecai were on my heels blocking my ability to shift, leaving me without many options.  I managed to get ahead of them enough to find some form of shelter, but I had to be careful about spending any time in an inn.  It was clear to me that it wasn't just a small group of mordecai, anymore.  The city had a vendetta.  I've been just steps ahead of them all of this time."

Fawn took a moment to pause and run her fingers through her hair, then took a deep breath and sighed wearily, the months of constantly being on-the-move having taken its toll on her.

"It wasn't until recently that I overheard proof from the mordecai of what I had suspected.  In passing, I heard a couple of them talk vaguely of a plan... a plan in the works to come at us again, both you and I, whether individually or together, I don't know but they're designing some sort of attack against us.  I can't tell you much more than that, I wish I could, but there weren't many details from the conversation I overheard.  So, here I am.  I never made it to the borders of Connlaoth.  I figured, if there were going to be any attempts on your life you'd want to know sooner, rather than later."

Fawn fiddled with a necklace that hung about her neck, a charm she had stolen from one of the wealthy men she had swindled years prior.  It was the tooth of a fledgling dragon, or so it was said to be, and was supposedly to bring the wearer good luck.  She didn't know if she was superstitious enough to say that it worked but so far, she had been pretty lucky.

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