In Deaths Embrace - solo -

[Yeorl Oakenleaf]

Bodies lay on the ground all around him, they were soldiers whom they worked for he couldn't really tell. His knowledge on the kingdoms of men was sadly limited. They had changed too much since his beginning and he'd lost touch being asleep so long. But while the mortals had changed, death had not. He knew this was no fight; this was a slaughter. He sighed, causing cold breath to drift back into his face, due to the obstruction of his helmet’s visor. He knew he was dead or he had been for a very long time; but for some reason his skin could still feel. Not feel so much as react, stronger than it had been in life. Life? That had been a very long time ago, these men would know of death too. They were unwittingly lucky.
In the corner lay one man, he was wounded; but still alive, he wasn't sure whether that would stay the case for very long - strangely enough he found he was genuinely curious. I suppose it couldn't hurt to demand. Thought Erath.

"Who-who-re... you?" A very frightened wounded soldier asked wincing from the pain.

Erath was not entirely unfamiliar with the wounds of humans but he thought this man would live. He was only missing an arm after all.
"That doesn't matter." Erath stated plainly. Of course it didn't matter, what relevance would his identity hold to a dying man? Perhaps even one that was wounded. He was unsure.
"What happened here?" Erath queried wary of the marks in the walls, it appeared to be marked by magic - or was that natural from some physical force? His awakening was not long since past and he was irritated that such minor details escaped his cognition. “It will not be long now till you understand.” Erath whispered to calm his frustration. The man ignored the strange comment about understanding and begun painfully recounting his tale.
Apparently the garrison here was tasked with guarding a particularly tricky sorcerer. During the middle of his watch a shade flung itself through the window at breakneck speeds and begun dispatching the soldiers. Fortunately the soldier had been flung through the window with the Shade as he had been outside the perimeter on watch and was seemingly unnoticed. The force had torn his arm clean off. The garrison had fought back and finally defeated the beast but unfortunately the sorcerer broke free and killed all who remained – yet again luckily looking past the sole one armed survivor
“A shade?” Erath, demanded shocked. The implications of one being loose upon the surface were staggering, he hoped that it was nothing more than a demon or something of lesser impact and that the guard had merely made a mistake. Fear was after all perpetually causing mortals to make mistakes. That was why the gods had made it: out of farsighted benevolence, malicious capriciousness and a well sought tool to train the mind. Each of the three had thrown their hands into that pot.
The guard understanding how incredulous Erath was, managed a grunt, to confirm that it was truly a shade. Thinking upon the story it made sense, Shades were creatures of un-death, they did not understand what blood truly was; if he had any blood on him at all it would make him virtually invisible to the creature.
Who were they guarding? He could sense the scars her magic had left on the surrounding area for miles – that was what had drawn him here in the first place.

“There is a city a few miles north of here, will you take me there to get help?” Pleaded the wounded guardsman as he looked up at Erath. The light gleamed menacingly off Earth’s gold armor, it was ornate and ancient he could not even fathom how old; But, he knew what it symbolized. “Shield bearer.” He quietly added Earth’s title with reverence. The Shield bearers were an infamous, small and ancient order preceding the birth of the world itself. So he was told. Staring into the blackness of Earth’s visor, he believed it.

“No.” Erath stated flatly, as he began to turn around towards the door. I’ve wasted enough time here as is, I must find this sorceress. He thought to himself, as what ever magic lay innate in him guided his dead body towards the next goal; The rogue sorceress.

“But I’ll die if you don’t help me.” Whimpered the guard as he attempted to bring himself to his feet, shaking from the pain. He knew his only chance lied with the stranger.

The understanding started to flood back in him, the knowledge felt like a fluid as his memories began to awaken. It had been one day since Erath had come back to life. Now he knew it had been four hundred years since he had died. But he also knew that this man’s wounds were mortal and he spoke the truth.
“You are right.” Erath said gently as he turned around back to the man with one arm and with a cold dead embrace that left the man paralyzed from it’s foreign touch and lifted him to his feet. In one smooth motion, Erath hugged the injured guard to him, drew his sword and plunged it directly through his heart killing him instantly.
“However, the only aid I could give would lead to the same ends.” Mouthed Erath quietly as he dropped the fresh corpse to the ground. Who ever the man was, he would now join his friends in the afterlife. Protecting that right that was the true aid Erath could give.“It’s better this way, less painful." Erath spoke to no one in particular. Gingerly stepping over the corpses, Erath left the garrison and the gruesome fate that had befallen it behind. Strong hands were at work here and he needed to know why.

[Yeorl Oakenleaf]

The stone was cold on her naked flesh, as she sat hunched in the corner of her metre by metre cell. The guards had tried to have their way with her; but, she had to her own satisfaction, cast a spell that well.. Took away theirs. Feeling flacid and no longer up to the task, they had settled with a quick beating and had stolen her clothes. During the cold winter months that for any other person, would've been a quick death; but, she used magic to warm herself and heal the wounds. Running through her blood rich and unheeded was power; She was a Sorceress. In these troubling times those with the gift were shunned and feared, the veil between life and death was beginning to fade and no one could really say why. Of course that was not the reason she had wound in jail she had found her way here of her own machinations. Of course that's what she'd tell herself.
"Oi, you in there! It's dinner time." Chuckled Thomas as he threw a rotten tomato at her and dropped slop, in through the bars, to fall upon the dirty stone floor.
That was how they fed her. She could hear his footfalls upon the stone as he walked off. It enraged her to see them so smug, so full of themselves, the blistering idiots did not even understand the magic of the cage that held her here. They simply thought she was another criminal - some common murderer. They knew nothing.
"Thank you Thomas!" She called back after him defiantly.
Thomas was the head guardsman, leader of the garrison here. It was a meagre assortment of about fifteen men but the way he acted you would've thought him a king. The man had some sort of delusion of grandeur and always bragged to his men about how he had met the crown prince. Thomas was the one she hated the most and that hate was returned in kind. For the eight months that she had been, here he had made sure it was hell. He liked to hold things of her old pack just outside of the reach of the cage and joked about how she couldn't throw any spells at him. She had made a silent promise to herself that one day, when she was out of here, if that day came that is, she'd make him suffer.
Of course the cage only stopped her from using magic to leave the cell it did not stop her from using magic within. What at first appeared as little more than a rotten tomato and a pile of slop quickly found new shape as an extremely clean glass of water accompanied by a steak. "Exquisite gourmet meal, you've out done yourself Thomas." She thought to herself giggling.
After her small feast she sat up against the cold bars and tried to think of what she would do this night to entertain herself. That was what she hated most about her incarceration was the lack of things to do. All she had to entertain her was her imagination and her memories. Both of which were too dark for the taste of most. She gently stroked her finger across her breast, feeling the goosebumps - while she could trick her mind into feeling warm, her body certainly was no fool. She knew it could make men fools and she smiled recalling how she had used it in the past, for just such a purpose.
"Verity?" Querried a soft and cautious voice from off in the shadows.
She immedietely took a brisk step back from the bars covering up her bossom with her arm, but the momentary surprise left her as she saw who it was.
"It's only me, Ryan" The boy assured her as he stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself, turning his head to the side awkwardly. Ryan wasn't the most handsome man she had ever met, no not by far, but he had something that drew her to him. She could not say what - but his gentle manner, forgiving nature and respectful attitude; was well, rare among men of the day and made her feel oddly special. She smiled at how shy he was, she knew he loved her but he also knew that like the others he was afraid of her. Most would look upon the fear with bitterness but she understood his fear and forgave him for it.
"I've brought you your clothes.. Um.. After the beating.. Sorry.. Are you well?" Ryan asked handing some clothes through the bars his voice dripping with concern.
They were not hers as he had said. Where he had gotten womens rags, she did not want to know. But she guessed the men had taken them off of some poor traveller.
"Thank you Ryan. I was getting quite the chill in here. Why don't you come in here and warm me up?" Verity suggested with her "seductive" voice, or at least she felt it did the job. Verity knew she had a woman's body and she knew exactly what men would do for an ample bottom and full bosom. Her Mother had taught her so.
The sad thing is, she really had fallen for the fool, at first she felt her feelings were due to solely the loneliness of the prison and having someone helped; however, she was not one to lie to herself and had quickly come to terms with her feelings. The night he had professed his love for her, they had almost been caught by Thomas. It was saddly the greatest night of her short life.
"I'd love to. We've got plenty of time, the men have all gone to the tavern." Ryan explained, as the prospects of a lay with her had emoldened him. The awkwardness now shed and replaced by passion. As he unlocked the door and locked it behind him, she realised how foolish he truly was. She could as easy as breathing snap his neck with her power and escape. So trusting.. So naive. She thought to herself. What shamed her was that she hadn't, she had let this come to pass for what seemed dozens of nights and he still walked out each time free while she remained here.
Is this what love is? Verity pondered, no longer so shamed by the feeling. She did truly love him and knew she could not bear to bring him harm.
"Here let's warm you up a bit first, your skin is stone cold." Ryan said as he pulled her close to him in a short embrace. Another thing she loved about him was that he always went for an embrace first. He gently lifted her arms from him and put the robe over her shoulders and pulled her back into his arms.
"Thank you Ryan.." She said tears welling up in her eyes as her entire body was racked not only with pain but chills. Her heart beat faster half due to the pain, half due to her longing for him. The one thing that she hated about the affair was any strong and true emotional response from her knocked her spells down completely. The pain she had blocked out earlier, from the beatings hit her all at once, with force, while the cold that her body had been ignoring blanketed her like a bucket of icy water. The memories of the beatings and attempted rape slapped her in the face and taunted her.
"Hey now, shh, it's okay. That's over now, you're here with me." Ryan whispered delicately into her ear, as he kissed her forehead and with one strong hand wiped the tears from her eyes; he did it with a certain gentleness and warmth, that made her tingle inside. At first the tears that racketed her when he came close had startled and guilted him; but, she'd explained how the effects of strong emotions work on Magi.
"I love you Ryan." Verity said awkwardly, the words "I love you" were hard for her to say to him. She had said them to tens of other men, moments before killing them in ways her true love could not even fathom. Yet here the fool was, kissing her and wishing her pain away. When what ever they would do to her for the affair, was nowhere near what they would do to him. In the land of Axony the smallest betrayal is punishable by death, had he even given her a piece of his lunch that would have been the death of him. Of course Axony is by no means a place of great intolerance, it's the freedom capital of the world; but, the risks he was taking were extreme.
"I love you too Verity." Ryan said grinning keenly, she always thought he looked ridiculous with that smile on his face. It was the smile of a child. But sometimes ridiculous was a good thing.
"I brought you a gift, my brother made it as a horse blanket.. I know you're no horse; but, I figured it's the best I could do. Maybe you could hide it in here and use some sort of.. Spell. To hide it?" Ryan suggested with a smile on his face as he handed her what appeared to be a very itchy woolen blanket. She was thankful for it anyways, with this to warm her up, she could conserve some of her energy and stop warming herself up, with magic. She remembered once, that she had tricked a wizard into loving her and he had given her a very expensive looking amulet. This was however by far the greatest gift she had ever received. Strange how that works.
"When's your watch?" Verity asked raising her eyebrow, a gesture that suggested the very lude thoughts that were now running through her head.