Frost 63rd, 120
Night befell Nuraku, an uneasy time beneath the watchful gaze of a predator. She watched him, even stared. He holds his back to me, she thought. Naive, or trusting?
Which is it?
Wrapped in bandages, her eyes grew heavy, and with her wings bound there was little the mage could do. He claims I am not his captive, but...
The story Aeraku gave is so true.
I cannot bare to slay him.
Who would I be? Perhaps Vesta’s warnings were tried and true.
The Black Remedy. She’d swore to help the lot eliminate every last Dranoch off the face of Atharen, but here was one she couldn’t fathom striking with a single mote of flame. Broken and suffering as he was, she pitied him. Perhaps it was the pity that helped her fade...
When she next awoke, the world around her was moving, or rather, Aeraku was carrying her within his arms. “Where are you taking me?” she uttered with her waking breath, heart rate ascending to levels of panic. When he stopped walking and looked down on her with worry, she fell silent beneath his disarming gaze.
“Well, I am traveling to Nardothis.” said Aeraku. “My goal as yet is to become Vier, so that I may amass more resources... and mmh, I must learn Gentevarese, and the Candor of the land.”
”I did not wish to leave you--you’ve been asleep for much of the day.”
Nuraku didn’t respond. There was one question on her mind, but she could not bring herself to ask it. Aeraku’s intuition seemed to guess as much, however. He began to speak again, saying “you are of the Bloodless Kin, and I still hold respect for the loose bond we share, however distant. We are also Rathor, and I thought, maybe, it would be nice to have someone I could confide my ills upon. Maybe even someone who hates what I am as much as I. Someone who would be complicit in assisting with my goal to unravel the curse.”
”These are my thoughts on the matter. What say you, Nuraku?”
“Ehm.” Loud and blowhardy, always so stubborn and strong, Nuraku wasn’t used to being put on the backfoot verbally. Morally. Physically. “It’s hard to believe you, but perhaps if I kept an eye on you... it would help me make peace with my decision to at least make of you an ally. A cure for Blight would be useful beyond measure.” Reason prevailed, even when suspicion clung to her every thought like the weight beneath a fishing lure.
”I do not remain fully convinced...”
”Perhaps in time...”
“That is enough for me,” Aeraku replied.
”Have you heard of Blood Magic?”
Nuraku grunted. “Illegal. Abhorrent. What of it?”
“I have heard a rumor that Blood Mages may be able to filter blood. They could be the cure, but alas, as you know... hated are they.”
”However, I have witnessed a Cardinal utilize it mostly in a self-sufficient manner to their own benefit,” Aeraku told her.
”I think someone such as I could wield it in an honorable manner.”
”Someone such as you? Perhaps even more so.”
“What makes you think that? I prefer not to dabble in the accursed,” Nuraku questioned.
”Those thoughts seem foolish.” She shrugged.
”Ahh, but my mentor taught me to keep an open mind. I will still be weary, however.”
Nuraku’s body ached. She wanted to walk, to be less vulnerable, but she trusted this dog Rathor more and more. He was so honest, so shrewd. And not so preachy as Vesta, more importantly. Still, held within the padded palm of a Dranoch, she felt more trusting of this monster than perhaps Vesta herself.
“Do you mind if I ask you more ...personal questions?” Aeraku said.
“Hum... Maybe,” Nuraku replied.
“Then who gave you your Runes? Tell me about the type of person they are.” said Aeraku.
“There were two. I received my Sigil from the Black Remedy, and the other four are from Vesta, the lady who looked after me when I was an orphan. She is manipulative and idealistic. A true pain, but ... sort of kind? I wouldn’t trust her.” Nuraku sighed in Aeraku’s arms. “She also suggested Nardothis as a means to improve my prowess, but I refused her. What a strange turn of events that I shall now attend anyway.”
”The machinations of mages are legendary for a reason.”
“That they are,” said Aeraku.
”It helps to have a friend.”
”I will watch your back if you have mine?”
Nuraku nodded slowly. “...Yes.” She was weary. “Pyromancy is relatively unknown beyond the whispers of Dranoch, the Remedy, and old books. I should refrain from its use for as long as I attend--but perhaps that is part of your goal, hm?”
Aeraku chuckled, uttering a brief bout of hubris. “Hm, hm, hah.”
”I think not.”
”I am entirely innocent, I promise.”
Aeraku’s eyes looked down, seemingly heavy as they walked. “Well, not entirely,” he admitted with a sigh.
”When I was turned, the curse was at its height.”
”I was not myself. Blood Crazed, so they say... I...”
Aeraku shook his head. “More than one is cause enough to wish for my own death.” Bringing a free hand to his eyes, he pinched his sinuses to help stop tears from beginning to form.
”I feel for those who suffered at my hand.”
”That is my burden to bare.”
“Aeraku...” Nuraku began. “I... I don’t know what to think.”
”You were truly not yourself?”
“Lost. Utterly. I felt as if locked behind a caged beast that would not listen to me,” he said solemnly.
”Now it is a constant, depressing sense of starvation.”
”An urge, but not something that cannot be controlled.”
“Won’t you die if you do not feed?” Nuraku questioned, looking for holes in his rhetoric.
“If a kill is fresh enough, then I may sustain the wasting effect of the curse by consuming the dead.” The Rathor shook his head slowly. “Dranoch operate meat markets in some cities. With a nose like mine, they can be found. I am sad to say that I still consume the flesh of innocents and am forced to purchase it.”
“Then you are guilty of enriching Dranoch underground operations,” chuffed Nuraku. “That is sinful in itself.”
“I have no other option except starve to death, and I must only do so once a month. A small amount is enough to keep me alive,” he told Nuraku. “A negligible amount, and every bite makes my insides turn with disgust at the amorality of it all.”
”Can you truly condemn me for doing the bare minimum to survive? Are we not all carnivores who partake of nature?”
“Well...” murmured Nuraku. “I’m unconvinced, but I suppose I’ve known worse people... supported worse people. I cannot condone the consumption of a murdered man’s body for the demand it creates, but given your struggle and the fact that it is your only option...” Nuraku sighed at length. “Ugh.”
”I can look over this slight.”
”I think I can, at least.”
“I’m not sure I wish to discuss this subject any longer,” said Nuraku. “I have had my fill of it.”
“As have I,” replied Aeraku. “Would you like to hear about my findings on Nardothis?”
“So we’re really going there, huh?” muttered Nuraku beneath her breath. “What’s the place like?”
Aeraku shrugged. “I can’t say, but the professors and headmaster are likely discerning should it be like any other institution. This one is driven by the governing body, the Empire, and riddled with mages. I always assumed it perilous to venture there without friends in high places. The Halamire speak fondly of the academy, or at least of those who survive--they also speak of their disappearing classmates, and the corpses of students whom failed their initiations.”
”Is that how you plan to survive?” Nuraku asked.
“The dead bodies of those who gambled their lives for magic? They who died not by my hand, but their own and the pressures of society? Yes. I think it would be more morally acceptable than a questionable meat market where I am certain the person I’m eating a part of was taken from the streets against their will.” Aeraku sighed. “Alas, it is wishful thinking. We will see how the Necromancers of the Manufactory treat Rathor.”
”Elves and humans have never appreciated our kind, as you know.”
“I know the sentiment well, yes,” said Nuraku. “It does seem preferable that we secure you a food source that died for a reason other than to satisfy your curse. Hum.”
“’We’?” Aeraku smiled.
“Yes, ‘we’,” replied Nuraku. “The idea of this Nardothis could be what I need to Ascend. To return me to my original body.”
“Hm, so that is your current fixation?” said Aeraku. “I wish you the best on your endeavors. I am sure the Animus mages of the academy have many specimens on hand to ply your Arcana with.”
”I haven’t had a chance to gauge your talent, but from what you tell me...”
”I’m sure your magic is quite dangerous?”
Nuraku nodded. “You bet, and ‘ya better not do anything to deserve my wrath!” piped up the injured bird held in the claws of a hungering monster.
Aeraku just laughed as they walked. “Nardothis will be a few days, but I will make sure to help you recover in that time.
Night befell Nuraku, an uneasy time beneath the watchful gaze of a predator. She watched him, even stared. He holds his back to me, she thought. Naive, or trusting?
Which is it?
Wrapped in bandages, her eyes grew heavy, and with her wings bound there was little the mage could do. He claims I am not his captive, but...
The story Aeraku gave is so true.
I cannot bare to slay him.
Who would I be? Perhaps Vesta’s warnings were tried and true.
The Black Remedy. She’d swore to help the lot eliminate every last Dranoch off the face of Atharen, but here was one she couldn’t fathom striking with a single mote of flame. Broken and suffering as he was, she pitied him. Perhaps it was the pity that helped her fade...
When she next awoke, the world around her was moving, or rather, Aeraku was carrying her within his arms. “Where are you taking me?” she uttered with her waking breath, heart rate ascending to levels of panic. When he stopped walking and looked down on her with worry, she fell silent beneath his disarming gaze.
“Well, I am traveling to Nardothis.” said Aeraku. “My goal as yet is to become Vier, so that I may amass more resources... and mmh, I must learn Gentevarese, and the Candor of the land.”
”I did not wish to leave you--you’ve been asleep for much of the day.”
Nuraku didn’t respond. There was one question on her mind, but she could not bring herself to ask it. Aeraku’s intuition seemed to guess as much, however. He began to speak again, saying “you are of the Bloodless Kin, and I still hold respect for the loose bond we share, however distant. We are also Rathor, and I thought, maybe, it would be nice to have someone I could confide my ills upon. Maybe even someone who hates what I am as much as I. Someone who would be complicit in assisting with my goal to unravel the curse.”
”These are my thoughts on the matter. What say you, Nuraku?”
“Ehm.” Loud and blowhardy, always so stubborn and strong, Nuraku wasn’t used to being put on the backfoot verbally. Morally. Physically. “It’s hard to believe you, but perhaps if I kept an eye on you... it would help me make peace with my decision to at least make of you an ally. A cure for Blight would be useful beyond measure.” Reason prevailed, even when suspicion clung to her every thought like the weight beneath a fishing lure.
”I do not remain fully convinced...”
”Perhaps in time...”
“That is enough for me,” Aeraku replied.
”Have you heard of Blood Magic?”
Nuraku grunted. “Illegal. Abhorrent. What of it?”
“I have heard a rumor that Blood Mages may be able to filter blood. They could be the cure, but alas, as you know... hated are they.”
”However, I have witnessed a Cardinal utilize it mostly in a self-sufficient manner to their own benefit,” Aeraku told her.
”I think someone such as I could wield it in an honorable manner.”
”Someone such as you? Perhaps even more so.”
“What makes you think that? I prefer not to dabble in the accursed,” Nuraku questioned.
”Those thoughts seem foolish.” She shrugged.
”Ahh, but my mentor taught me to keep an open mind. I will still be weary, however.”
Nuraku’s body ached. She wanted to walk, to be less vulnerable, but she trusted this dog Rathor more and more. He was so honest, so shrewd. And not so preachy as Vesta, more importantly. Still, held within the padded palm of a Dranoch, she felt more trusting of this monster than perhaps Vesta herself.
“Do you mind if I ask you more ...personal questions?” Aeraku said.
“Hum... Maybe,” Nuraku replied.
“Then who gave you your Runes? Tell me about the type of person they are.” said Aeraku.
“There were two. I received my Sigil from the Black Remedy, and the other four are from Vesta, the lady who looked after me when I was an orphan. She is manipulative and idealistic. A true pain, but ... sort of kind? I wouldn’t trust her.” Nuraku sighed in Aeraku’s arms. “She also suggested Nardothis as a means to improve my prowess, but I refused her. What a strange turn of events that I shall now attend anyway.”
”The machinations of mages are legendary for a reason.”
“That they are,” said Aeraku.
”It helps to have a friend.”
”I will watch your back if you have mine?”
Nuraku nodded slowly. “...Yes.” She was weary. “Pyromancy is relatively unknown beyond the whispers of Dranoch, the Remedy, and old books. I should refrain from its use for as long as I attend--but perhaps that is part of your goal, hm?”
Aeraku chuckled, uttering a brief bout of hubris. “Hm, hm, hah.”
”I think not.”
”I am entirely innocent, I promise.”
Aeraku’s eyes looked down, seemingly heavy as they walked. “Well, not entirely,” he admitted with a sigh.
”When I was turned, the curse was at its height.”
”I was not myself. Blood Crazed, so they say... I...”
Aeraku shook his head. “More than one is cause enough to wish for my own death.” Bringing a free hand to his eyes, he pinched his sinuses to help stop tears from beginning to form.
”I feel for those who suffered at my hand.”
”That is my burden to bare.”
“Aeraku...” Nuraku began. “I... I don’t know what to think.”
”You were truly not yourself?”
“Lost. Utterly. I felt as if locked behind a caged beast that would not listen to me,” he said solemnly.
”Now it is a constant, depressing sense of starvation.”
”An urge, but not something that cannot be controlled.”
“Won’t you die if you do not feed?” Nuraku questioned, looking for holes in his rhetoric.
“If a kill is fresh enough, then I may sustain the wasting effect of the curse by consuming the dead.” The Rathor shook his head slowly. “Dranoch operate meat markets in some cities. With a nose like mine, they can be found. I am sad to say that I still consume the flesh of innocents and am forced to purchase it.”
“Then you are guilty of enriching Dranoch underground operations,” chuffed Nuraku. “That is sinful in itself.”
“I have no other option except starve to death, and I must only do so once a month. A small amount is enough to keep me alive,” he told Nuraku. “A negligible amount, and every bite makes my insides turn with disgust at the amorality of it all.”
”Can you truly condemn me for doing the bare minimum to survive? Are we not all carnivores who partake of nature?”
“Well...” murmured Nuraku. “I’m unconvinced, but I suppose I’ve known worse people... supported worse people. I cannot condone the consumption of a murdered man’s body for the demand it creates, but given your struggle and the fact that it is your only option...” Nuraku sighed at length. “Ugh.”
”I can look over this slight.”
”I think I can, at least.”
“I’m not sure I wish to discuss this subject any longer,” said Nuraku. “I have had my fill of it.”
“As have I,” replied Aeraku. “Would you like to hear about my findings on Nardothis?”
“So we’re really going there, huh?” muttered Nuraku beneath her breath. “What’s the place like?”
Aeraku shrugged. “I can’t say, but the professors and headmaster are likely discerning should it be like any other institution. This one is driven by the governing body, the Empire, and riddled with mages. I always assumed it perilous to venture there without friends in high places. The Halamire speak fondly of the academy, or at least of those who survive--they also speak of their disappearing classmates, and the corpses of students whom failed their initiations.”
”Is that how you plan to survive?” Nuraku asked.
“The dead bodies of those who gambled their lives for magic? They who died not by my hand, but their own and the pressures of society? Yes. I think it would be more morally acceptable than a questionable meat market where I am certain the person I’m eating a part of was taken from the streets against their will.” Aeraku sighed. “Alas, it is wishful thinking. We will see how the Necromancers of the Manufactory treat Rathor.”
”Elves and humans have never appreciated our kind, as you know.”
“I know the sentiment well, yes,” said Nuraku. “It does seem preferable that we secure you a food source that died for a reason other than to satisfy your curse. Hum.”
“’We’?” Aeraku smiled.
“Yes, ‘we’,” replied Nuraku. “The idea of this Nardothis could be what I need to Ascend. To return me to my original body.”
“Hm, so that is your current fixation?” said Aeraku. “I wish you the best on your endeavors. I am sure the Animus mages of the academy have many specimens on hand to ply your Arcana with.”
”I haven’t had a chance to gauge your talent, but from what you tell me...”
”I’m sure your magic is quite dangerous?”
Nuraku nodded. “You bet, and ‘ya better not do anything to deserve my wrath!” piped up the injured bird held in the claws of a hungering monster.
Aeraku just laughed as they walked. “Nardothis will be a few days, but I will make sure to help you recover in that time.
