RP:His Departure
Summary:
Elioyahazer leaves Xalious while he still has a semblance of humanity left. Karasu gives him a parting gift.
Cliff
This cliff doesn't seem very treacherous compared to some that you've seen around here. There isn't anything in particular about this one despite the wholesome glow coming from the bottom. You wonder what could be down there, but you don't see any way to reach it. If you only had someone to belay you down, you might be able to make it its only about 45 feet tall. To the south there is rather rough territory, while to the west is a path leading to a small village.
Karasu paced the grounds outside of the Mage's Tower. She had only heard vaguely of what happened, but the news had reached her nonetheless: The only member of the guild she had fought with in battle was leaving. Dressed in her brass armor, the halfling patrols the town of Xalious, which is only illuminated by the firelight from the windows of the tower itself, and the crimson and pale green moons above. Her half-feline heritage makes easy work of looking through the darkness, though, and she is alert to any activity. This includes the light footfalls of someone exiting the tower. She comes to a stop in the shadows and watches silently as Elioyahazer begins to make for the pass that leads out of the town. Karasu lowers the hood of her Mage Guild robes. "Are you leaving?" The halfling calls out to him, breaking the silence. Despite her training, a naivete is present in her tone that betrays that somehow, she feels sorry that this could be their last encounter.
The desert borns ashen features twist to the abrupt noise of Karasus voice that shatters the reigning silence of his otherwise imperceptible footsteps. Having just relinquished his equipment, a Xalious staff and a peculiar glass tome he invented, to Dyraxdiin himself. Depending on Karasu's ability with magic, there is a very faint aura of death. Of murder, which fringes upon insanity and is more akin to slaughter which surrounds the fledgling, devouring his normal arcane one. It might appear as if he'd upset Xalious himself and impressed someone else. The whole ordeal is one debacle that he cannot explain away, nor even fathom. His mutated eyes shift to the half feline from beneath the shadow of a hooded cloak, gazing upon her features briefly. “I am.” Those two words ring out in defiance of the silence surrounding them. “I've lost touch with magic, and am no longer a spellblade.” Truth be told he could magically conjure up an ember right now, considering how strong he was before. In truth, such a loss would be devastating to most. Elioyahazer only seems mildly lost in thought. What else could he say? ' Nice knowing you?' Such pleasantries seemed folly. "Stay close to Dyraxdiin and the others, you'll be quite strong before you know it." Why would he say something like that?
The halfling lets out a breath she did not even realize she was holding when he confirms his departure. "I... am sorry to hear that." Her brows furrow and feline ears lower slightly to face the ground. The idea of losing the ability to enchant weaponry is terrifying to the young apprentice. "I um... don't know a lot about you, but... You were a great comrade to have in battle." She takes a step forward to say something else when the aura reaches her, making the fur on her tail stand on end. It's a primal fear that courses through her, alerting her to an immediate danger from his presence. "I see." The girl says simply, averting her gaze, fighting the urge to flee to the safety of the tower. "Even if you are not a spellblade any longer... You were still..." The child's cheeks flush. "You're still the only one that offered a halfling like me a dance the other night. So... if you ever need to talk to someone about what's going on... I'm not exactly a friend, but, you can talk to me." Suddenly the silence is deafening, and she feels like ripping the hood back over her head and finding the closest cliff to jump off of.
The desert born himself is sorry to hear it, but it's much more than enchanting his weapons that he's lost. Though only an apprentice in the mages guild, he had been a spellblade of abilities for a long time before entering. His rank is not reflective of where he actually was. With a nod he confirms her apologies, but he doesn't seek her sympathy. "Things will be alright." The vampire is quick to respond, when he notices her hesitation at his presence. This would be his new future. Mutated eyes continue to gaze upon Karasu during her quiet moment after speaking of the dance. The corruption within his minds eye begins to run wild with thoughts of cutting that little neck of hers open. Of leaving this innocent creature tortured, dead and on display. He visibly shakes his head, clearing such useless thoughts. "I appreciate the offer, little one, but I prefer to let things out by fighting. Unless you're offering to fight me or some enemy, with me, I'm not sure we will meet again." His voice trails off suddenly, feeling the pain of Vampiric hunger. How long has it been since he's fed? "When next we meet, we may very well be enemies, halfling. Until that time, take pride in what you are. You're half feline. You've claws and a personality. Embrace it, as I have my own twisted fate." God's the road he has walked. "But, thank you for the dance. I didn't have the chance to tell you before." This entire meeting could quickly become one of his last fleeting moments of his humanity.
Slitted eyes regard the hooded man as he speaks, though the way he talks is enough to signify that he no longer regards himself as even such. Her fur remains bristled against a vague feeling of danger, but the naive thing chooses to ignore it. Dyraxdiin had trusted him, so surely he could not be truly evil, she reasoned. Her lips quirk upwards into a smile when he comments about her half-heritage. "I'd rather not be enemies." Hesitantly, she steps forward, reaching into a pocket of her cloak and extending her hand out for him to take the item. Should he decide to take it, he would find himself the owner of a pendant that glows with arcane magic. An arrow, stark red against the mana, points towards the exit of the valley. To the desert-born, it may seem like little more than a child's trinket, but the girl seems sincere in this gifting. "It's uh... supposed to point you to something your heart desires, or something like that. These were going to be sold at the Arh'Nuk festival, but the telemancers were only to make a few of these on such short notice. If it your arrow still aims for something, then... maybe your fate hasn't been completely twisted." Karasu takes a step back and raises the hood on her cloak. "Be safe." She says, turning on her heel and walking back towards the safety of the Mage's Tower.