27 Aug 2018, 17:29
Where common sense goes to die
Kaegen was in a tree. It was the new year, the second year he had been in Hogwarts. He had come back to hogwarts a only slightly changed boy. And the change was not necessarily for the better. In fact, it was most certainly not for the better. He was more paranoid, far less trusting. And he had the doubt. It was just a little bit, but it was there, ready to turn from a trickle to a rushing tsunami at a moments notice.
The doubt that said he wasn’t good enough, the doubt that said Eris wasn’t going to like him anymore, the doubt that said she never liked him to begin with. He followed her often, tracking the little girl just in case she needed him. He wasted so much time watching her as she did homework he seldom did it himself until past curfew, when the brazen portrait of gryffindor tower dared to halt his entry. And so his sleeplessness only increased. His prefect duties, too, were something he had to juggle. As well as the apprenticeship he believed himself to posses under the Care of Magical Creature Professor.
He was a tired, terrified boy that refused to take a break. If he did, he would be completely forgotten. Eris hung out with other students most of the time, seeming to hardly notice her constant shadow. There wasn’t enough of him to go around, there were too many tasks he had to complete. And there was something else. Something that had been bothering him since last year. There was something off about him, something that set him apart from the other children. It would be obvious to any outsider, his whitish grey skin and unnerving eyes, the way he dressed or how he spoke. As obvious as those were to people outside, it was a mystery to the boy, view of the forest blocked by the multitude of trees obstructing his vision.
The only times he didn’t follow Eris was when he couldn’t make himself do it. The first year of Hogwarts he had been driven, he had been powerful. Now he could only feel embers of that power, ready to be called upon to ignite if new fuel was provided. But no new fuel was provided, and so the embers sat there along with the boy whose heart they resided in. Fairy, Flower, Maximum and Emu. All people far closer to Eris than he was. Following any amount of logic you like, small or large, you could plainly see that the reason must be behind their strength. They must be stronger than the prefect. Many of them were prefects themselves, but their usefulness to the small bonfire was clearly leagues beyond anything he himself could do.
And so he had not managed to get himself to follow Eris that day. He had found a tree, and sat there. Pulling a knife out of a pouch strapped to his body under the large patched black robe he wore the young boy set about making a trap. It wasn’t anything particularly brilliant. A log on the branch, raised up by a prop. The prop had been mostly whittled down, until it was barely strong enough to hold up the log, and then had been skewered through some berries. If a creature came along to eat the berries the prop would break and the log would fall, killing whatever had set off the simple mechanism. It should have taken him only minutes, the task of whittling down a small stick was not exactly daunting. But it took him over an hour, slowly working on a project with no purpose. Who needed traps in a place with magic food? Who needed a hunter, a boy from the fens in a place where only scholars received accolades.
A snare hung down from the tree into the grass below, the result of a few minutes tying knots with the cord that he carried in another pouch. The boy had all his earthly possessions on him, save for that one extra spare robe. The books were in a bag on his back, the gloves in a satchel strapped to his outer thigh. But all of it was under robes far too big for him, so unless you knew what you were looking for, it appeared as if he carried nothing.
He was a prefect, true. A honorable position that he had sworn to uphold. But who cared besides himself? Sir happiness left him to his own devices, gave advice when necessary. He somehow scraped time to greet the newcomers, and still. Still he had achieved nothing. Not even when he redecorated the dorms, gave them life and purpose. People knew it was his duty, they knew he was going to do it, and left it at that. And as the boy stagnated in unchanging unpredictability, those around him rose higher and higher. So he now did what he knew how to do. Catch, kill and eat.
After the trap was set up all one had to do was leave it alone for a while and check back every third hour. Or daily. But the boy knew it didn’t matter if he caught anything, so he stayed there. He stayed there and started to carve a branch. It didn’t have any point, but that was the idea. He would get up the next day, go to classes and protect Eris. He would attend to his duties and finish his homework, train himself as hard as he could in the remaining few minutes left to him before his body gave up, gave in and passed out. Not today, though. Today he carved and sat.
Last edited by Amadea Campbell on 27 Aug 2018, 17:40, edited 1 time in total.
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice
30 Aug 2018, 18:05
Where common sense goes to die
It had been a long year.
A long year full of homework, adventures, and loneliness. Yes, Dorothy Shafiq seemed the only girl capable of going an entire year without making a single friend. She believed that took talent. It had to be true, considering that all the dopey half-bloods could make friends. Maybe it was because of their constant pity party's. The whole, "Oh! Poor me! I'm hated against. Meeeh!" Dorothy didn't give a hoot when it came to a pity party, especially when students used their downfalls to gain friendships. Who needed friends, anyway? She certainly didn’t. She was doing just fine on her own.
Walking. That was what she was doing on her own. The woods around the great lake were a very pleasant place to take an evening stroll, as long as you were careful to avoid the roots and puddles. Walking allowed Dorothy to meditate on the days events and spend time away from the noisy, boisterous students that filled Hogwarts. Despite her desperation to avoid her housemates, certain events kept smashing them into her. The Lock in, for example. Dorothy had fought side by side with a group of Gryffindors. It had actually been quite exciting, and the prospect of friendship hadn’t been so disagreeable at the time. Then, surprisingly, they hadn’t even wanted to be her friends. Even though she had come to great dangers aiding them. Stupid Gryffindors.
So now, still on her own, Dorothy entered her second year of Hogwarts. Still friendless, still angry, still captive in her own family. Being a pureblood was so tedious. Her mother often told her she was better than everyone else, but here she seemed almost lower. After all, even the mud bloods had friends. It didn’t matter to her of course, but it was a valid point. Rosie Parker had almost been her friend. Now, she didn’t know where their relationship stood. They had fought in the common room months before, near the closure of the summer camp. It had been nearly a month since they’d talk, and Dorothy couldn’t help but hoard a shred of hope regarding their relationship. There was hope yet, for their friendship, and the blonde girl fervently believed in it.
Oh, and by the way, Dorothy was still blonde. It was interesting, the trend that had entered Hogwarts. Recently, everyone seemed to be dying their hair blonde, like Dorothy’s. It was a bit annoying, honestly. Why would you chose to change something about yourself for the fun of it. Some kids even went as far as to dye their hair white! Like an old maid. Why would you want to look like an old maid? None of it made sense really, and Dorothy had chosen to ignore the people who changed themselves. They only wanted attention anyways.
Now her mind was really wandering. It was so easy to be lost in thought around the magic lake. Maybe that was part of its charm. Here, Dorothy could let her thoughts run free and focus on the silly and sentimental in her school-life. The forest floor was coated in little round, green leaves and pine needles. It was a little squishy to step on. The ground, still wet from a recent rainstorm, squished under her bulky school shoes. Small collections of water formed between the roots of the surrounding trees. It reminded Dorothy of a swamp, in a way. A mini swamp.
Eris reminded her of a swamp. The girl was soft and gentle on the surface, enough to suck you into her mire. Then she would just trap you, all dangerous and squishy until you couldn’t breathe. Dorothy had met Eris in the Lock in. She had been nice then, caring and all that. Dorothy, caught up in the desperation for friends, had sincerely thought Eris was mean’t to be hers. But little Miss Fawley was fake. Plastic. It had take Dorothy too long to realize that. It was at the Fawley ball Dorothy saw a glimpse into the redheads true personality. Dorothy had greeted Eris like a friend, tentatively considering her a true one. But it had all been a lie. Eris had been pretty mean for some reason. Was it something Dorothy had said? She didn’t know, and she doubted she ever would. People like Eris weren’t worth her time.
SPLASH! Dorothy’s foot slammed into a puddle. The familiar feeling of wet leaking into her shoes brought the blonde Hufflepuff back to reality. The water was cold, and all in her grey socks now. It was funny how the water could darken things. A bit of the aquarian liquid and grey became black, pink became red, and yellow.. Became a darker yellow. It was a pretty boring color really. Unfortunately, it was her color. Dorothy had been shocked the day she was sorted into Hufflepuff. Really! Hufflepuff? Not only did the house have a terrible reputation, they also were consistently picked on by everyone else. Someone as high class as Dorothy surely belonged in Gryffindor, or Slytherin. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t made friends. She didn’t belong in her own house.
Her stepmother had been most aggrieved to hear of her placement. Madam Shafiq had been privately schooled, so Dorothy couldn't understand why it would bother her. The women had a lot of strange rules that the twelve year old considered odd. For instance, Dorothy wasn't allowed to play like other children. Instead of romping outside, she would be told to study Arabic, or practice stitching, or attend etiquette lessons. It was dreadfully dull, and Dorothy attempted to escape every possible moment. Here at hogwarts, she couldn't help but disobey her mothers strict policies. No one was watching anyway.
One of her favorite methods of rebellion was tree climbing. Nothing could rival the feelings of freedom and joy tree climbing gave Dorothy, except for maybe flying. Recently, Dorothy had stopped her afternoon walks about the ground for a good scurry up one of the large trees. She had gotten quite good at it too. Dorothy gave a slight smile, stooped down, and peeled her shoes and wet socks off before tossing them to the forest floor. There was a large oak tree ahead of her, and it was calling her name out with fervency. She jogged over like some glorified forest nymph, and began to climb it's outstretched limbs. The mossy bark felt rough and damp against her cold feet. It was so out of her comfort zone, yet so freeing and-
Good God! Dorothy had been clinging to a limb five feet above the ground, when she came across something strange. Quite strange. Apparently, she wasn't the only person enjoying this tree. Just in front of her, a shadowy figure loomed overhead, like some jungle panther ready for lunch. Dorothy gave a startled cry and let go of the tree, hurtling towards the ground. She landed with a hollow thud on one of the many thick roots below the tree. It hit her squarely in the back, knocking the breath out of her. Dorothy let out a low moan and sat up, hands pressed against her newly bruised back. Tears crept into her bloodshot eyes, and she momentarily forgot about the figure in the tree.
"S-show yourself!" She gasped, rubbing her eyes and staring up at the trees. What she saw next gave her quite a shock, and filled her being with anger.
It was an almost boy.
Stamina: 4 - Agility: 5 - Strength: 7 - Control: 3 - Arcane Power: 6 - Accuracy: 5
7 Sep 2018, 02:17
Where common sense goes to die
The boy was just thinking that he should leave and go setting about his duties and tasks as per the norm when he heard something coming. He wasn’t going to give it much thought. It was probably just some creature coming out of the woods to say hello. He wasn’t opposed to the occasional gytrash peering out of the mist to see whether or not Kaegen was a tasty snack or something to be avoided. They were pretty easy to steer clear of, requiring only that you avoided the mist, and made haste to get away from there. He had even seen a thestral or two in his first year at hogwarts. But he soon realized it was none of those when his sharp ears picked up not four but two feet coming at him. That left another student, or perhaps a redcap.
Although redcaps would most likely not be allowed in Hogwarts grounds. Taking out a few other odd creatures the boy knew were bipedal he settled on some variation of ghoul. However, as soon as his mind was made up that the thing approaching him was in fact a sort of ghoul he saw that he had been wrong in his assumptions. It was a student, probably a girl, judging from the hair. However, the hair was light, and in his experience most girls had red or brown hair. Mostly red. Lighter colors normally meant a boy, didn’t it?
On the other hand, the hair was long. Long hair usually meant it was a girl. As she approached the tree he heard her speak, but it didn’t sound like a girl speaking at all. Which meant he was a boy. Kaegen made a mental note as he heard the boy talking to him. He sounded a lot closer than he was. The boy was at the bottom of the tree but Kaegen could hear him right next to his ear.
It was an odd request, more of an order, actually. But as he was wondering why this boy was telling him to run he started to climb up the tree. He fell with a scream and landed on a root when he saw the prefect, which was confusing. Hadn’t the boy just spoken with him? Why on earth would he seem that surprised? It took the tree-climber a bit to recover, but when he did he said about the most confusing thing yet.
Hadn’t the tree-climber just seen him? Not 30 seconds ago as he climbed the tree? What was more curious still was the voice. It didn’t sound at all like the voice Kaegen had heard in his ear telling him to run. It sounded a lot more like the voice of a girl. Did she have two separate voices? Could she throw her voice up by his ear and then back down to her like a yo-yo? Was something like that even possible? Grabbing the rope snare he had tied, the boy slung it over a broken off branch that looked relatively thick enough and then jumped down. One end of the snare was a slip knot. That part was the actual snare.
The other end was secured in a bowline knot, although the boy didn’t know it’s name. It made a loop that never got bigger or smaller, and it was into this loop on the other that the boy thrust his foot, causing him to dangle from a tree upside down with a deadpan expression on his face. His blue and black cape almost touching the ground, grey scarf hanging down in front of it. His hair was too burnt and tangled for gravity to affect if very much, but it still got pulled down enough to look even worse. Skin that looked like it was taken from a corpse, shadows under the dark greyish blue eyes that stared ahead as if the body to which they belonged was standing right side up, and not hanging upside down from a tree by a snare.
To be sure, being out in the open like he was at the moment was perhaps a very foolish move. But at this point in time his curiosity had come surging to the forefront. How had the tree-climber managed that trick with the voices? The best way to figure out these things had always been to ask. It worked at times, didn’t at others. But it was worth a shot. With the imposing voice of a little kid whispering loudly into a breeze, an odd sound that reminded some a bit of rustling leaves, others of someone too stupid to know how to talk right, the boy introduced himself.
Although redcaps would most likely not be allowed in Hogwarts grounds. Taking out a few other odd creatures the boy knew were bipedal he settled on some variation of ghoul. However, as soon as his mind was made up that the thing approaching him was in fact a sort of ghoul he saw that he had been wrong in his assumptions. It was a student, probably a girl, judging from the hair. However, the hair was light, and in his experience most girls had red or brown hair. Mostly red. Lighter colors normally meant a boy, didn’t it?
On the other hand, the hair was long. Long hair usually meant it was a girl. As she approached the tree he heard her speak, but it didn’t sound like a girl speaking at all. Which meant he was a boy. Kaegen made a mental note as he heard the boy talking to him. He sounded a lot closer than he was. The boy was at the bottom of the tree but Kaegen could hear him right next to his ear.
"Run"
It was an odd request, more of an order, actually. But as he was wondering why this boy was telling him to run he started to climb up the tree. He fell with a scream and landed on a root when he saw the prefect, which was confusing. Hadn’t the boy just spoken with him? Why on earth would he seem that surprised? It took the tree-climber a bit to recover, but when he did he said about the most confusing thing yet.
“S-Show yourself!”
Hadn’t the tree-climber just seen him? Not 30 seconds ago as he climbed the tree? What was more curious still was the voice. It didn’t sound at all like the voice Kaegen had heard in his ear telling him to run. It sounded a lot more like the voice of a girl. Did she have two separate voices? Could she throw her voice up by his ear and then back down to her like a yo-yo? Was something like that even possible? Grabbing the rope snare he had tied, the boy slung it over a broken off branch that looked relatively thick enough and then jumped down. One end of the snare was a slip knot. That part was the actual snare.
The other end was secured in a bowline knot, although the boy didn’t know it’s name. It made a loop that never got bigger or smaller, and it was into this loop on the other that the boy thrust his foot, causing him to dangle from a tree upside down with a deadpan expression on his face. His blue and black cape almost touching the ground, grey scarf hanging down in front of it. His hair was too burnt and tangled for gravity to affect if very much, but it still got pulled down enough to look even worse. Skin that looked like it was taken from a corpse, shadows under the dark greyish blue eyes that stared ahead as if the body to which they belonged was standing right side up, and not hanging upside down from a tree by a snare.
To be sure, being out in the open like he was at the moment was perhaps a very foolish move. But at this point in time his curiosity had come surging to the forefront. How had the tree-climber managed that trick with the voices? The best way to figure out these things had always been to ask. It worked at times, didn’t at others. But it was worth a shot. With the imposing voice of a little kid whispering loudly into a breeze, an odd sound that reminded some a bit of rustling leaves, others of someone too stupid to know how to talk right, the boy introduced himself.
”Kaegen Deathmote, Fens-Born Scarf-Wielder. He who was called fat tadpole as a babe, suicidal idjit as a toddler and he who earned the name Eeh before arriving at Hogwarts. Protector of Eris, Chaos-Born First-Avenger, companion to November, Deathmote-kin. Assistant to Professor near under the authority of himself. He who was made prefect of ravenclaw under the authority of the black burn and sir happiness. He whose names are given authority by Grandfather, whose authority is given him by the conqueror of the 14th dark place.
How did you do that?”
How did you do that?”
Reducio
I know it isn't an adventure, but I couldn't decide if he was going to fail or succeed so I rolled for it. 1d20+8 agility. [18+8=26] again, I know I didn't have to but I just wanted to make sure he didn't automatically succeed without tangling himself.
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice
13 Sep 2018, 21:41
Where common sense goes to die
This was.. Interesting. A sudden movement revealed a boy. A very small, dirty little boy. Dorothy's usual contempt was drowned by an undeniably, strong surge of curiosity. He was very, very, pale, like bedsheets or flour. Was he coated in flour? As far as she could tell, he wasn't, but who knew with Ravenclaws. His eyes were a dull grey-blue, similar in color to hers, only a good deal darker. Black hair refused to bend to the laws of gravity, mainly because a fire of sorts had melted it to a single, solid crust. He was odd to look at, even excluding the fact that he was upside down. Dorothy awkwardly tilted her head sideways, like a confused burrowing owl, in an attempt to further understand his appearance.
Then his name. Keagan Deathmote, the fat tadpole suicide baby, idjit toddler Eeh, Eris something-something. Hold up. Eris? Eris from the Lock-in? Eris from the Fawley ball? Eris who was mad at her and probably wished despair upon her family and her families cow? Ok, that was a bit dramatic. Still, Dorothy wondered what this Keagan fellow had to do with-Wait. He was still talking. "Assistant to Professor near under the authority of himself. He who was made prefect of ravenclaw under the authority of the black burn and sir happiness. He whose names are given authority by Grandfather, whose authority is given him by the conqueror of the 14th dark place." There was no way she would remember that name. The blonde girl gingerly stood up and moved closer to the boy. She moved with the cautious nature of someone approaching a wild animal, and stopped seven inches from where he swung.
The boy, concluding his ridiculous name, asked another question. How did she do that. How did she do what? Fall? Speak? Keagan didn't seem to know how to speak very well. Dorothy clasped her hands tightly behind her back and leaned slightly forward. She spoke like one addressing a frightened creature, except in a confused, robotic manner. "Hello, Keagan the Idjit Eeh. My name is Dorothea Proxima Centauri Dippet-Shafiq, but you can call me Door-thee, or whatever else you'd like." She paused, contemplating what he'd said. "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do anything. I was just walking by and-" Another pause. Dorothy wasn't just going to tell this stranger that she, she, had climbed a tree. Her mind worked fast, devising a story to cover up her actions. "And I thought I saw someone stuck in this tree. So I came over to-to help."
Would he believe her? Most likely not, if he even understood. She backed away and circled him, head tilted upwards, eyes studying the trap he had assembled in the branches above. "Did someone trap you?" She asked, a little louder than before, confidence building. If he was trapped, he couldn't do anything to her. Dorothy glanced back down at him, eyes searching his for a sign that he understood her. Light grey eyes locked on dark grey eyes, she waited for him to speak.
To whisper, as only almost boys can do.
ReducioSorry for a late post and bad writing! It's been a long week XD
Stamina: 4 - Agility: 5 - Strength: 7 - Control: 3 - Arcane Power: 6 - Accuracy: 5
16 Sep 2018, 07:05
Where common sense goes to die
This girl had a name, but it wasn’t a very good one. Dorothy proximity century dip it in shafeek. He didn’t know what shafeek was, or why you dip anything in it, but who was he to judge? It was probably just some weird other language. Maybe shafeek was another word for jam, or honey. Honey was extremely hard to find, and dangerous to get. So maybe that was a title? She who dips her food in honey? Dorothy close to the century dip it in honey? Dipper. Her name would be dipper. It’s not like her name had any authority. No deeds to back it up, no line of power to trace who she was, why she was. Just a name and empty titles. He almost decided to call her husk, or empty but decided against it. He would give her the benefit of the doubt, call her by something that reflected the empty titles she presented him.
The girl went on to claim she hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t done anything? Really? There was no way she had just been walking by. He had seen her walk up to the tree, heard her voice up there in the tree with him, however far below him she had been. And he had seen her climb the tree, hadn’t he? She had gone a grand total of five feet up before falling, was that nothing? Did people just passing by climb trees as they went, was that a thing they did? And then she continued her tale, going on to say that she had seen someone stuck in a tree and gone up to help. He hadn’t been stuck, that much was obvious. Which means she was talking about someone else, which was impossible. He had been the only person up there, right?
But thinking about it, was that really the case? He had heard that voice, hadn’t he? And she just claimed to not have caused it. That meant someone else had, or that she was lying. And only death witches or the morally deficient would lie. That gave him a few options. Either she was a death witch or morally deficient or she was telling the truth and it was someone else in the tree the entire time with Kaegen, someone he hadn’t seen, heard smelt or felt. Someone he hadn’t even sensed. A lot of times when things are hiding, he got the feeling he was being watched. Everyone got that feeling, it wasn’t unique to him or anything. And it was more or less reliable, too. Sometimes it rang for no reason, and sometimes it didn’t ring at all. But if something was trapped in a tree right next to him for this long, he should have felt at least uneasy, right?
Was he slipping? Was he… his worrying thoughts were only temporarily suppressed when dipper walked around him and then asked a simple question with anything other than simple implications.
“Did someone trap you?”
Who the heck was she talking to? He clearly wasn’t trapped himself. It’s not like someone whose name carried authority from the conqueror of the 14th dark place would get trapped by his own snare. She must be talking to someone else, then. But who? The answer hit him harder than he was hoping it would. There was something on his back. He had a creature, a demon, on his back and he didn’t even know it. It must be stuck there, it was stuck on his back. That was what she was going to try and save, that was what spoke and that was what she was talking to. The demon, the creature, the thing on his back was trying to kill him, that was the only plausible answer. Kill him or sap his energy or trick him into breaking a promise or whatever.
But that wasn’t going to work, not with Kaegen. Not with the prefect of ravenclaw. That thing was going to die, and he was going to kill it. The boy’s eyes turned dark, black as a starless night. Fangs shot out of sore gums, not fully recovered since the last time something like this had happened. His hand shot to his back, but he felt nothing. Long, strong, dull pointed fingernails scratching and reaching for his back, trying to rend and shred at a non-existing thing, and when he found nothing his mind turned from rage to panic. Horrible panic that something was on his back, something he could not reach or touch. The boy began thrashing about like a berserk dog trying to grab a hold of its tail.
He span around, faster and faster and more violent by the second, ripping through his robe and scrabbling at the leather straps and containers that made up his shirt. If the girl didn’t move, she would be in the line of fire, a comically terrified tasmanian devil of a child trying to kill his own back coming closer and closer, centrifugal forge sending him towards her.
He hadn’t said anything, had just silently listened while hanging by a rope until he had started violently thrashing about, trying to rip off his own back, but failing miserably.
The girl went on to claim she hadn’t done anything. Hadn’t done anything? Really? There was no way she had just been walking by. He had seen her walk up to the tree, heard her voice up there in the tree with him, however far below him she had been. And he had seen her climb the tree, hadn’t he? She had gone a grand total of five feet up before falling, was that nothing? Did people just passing by climb trees as they went, was that a thing they did? And then she continued her tale, going on to say that she had seen someone stuck in a tree and gone up to help. He hadn’t been stuck, that much was obvious. Which means she was talking about someone else, which was impossible. He had been the only person up there, right?
But thinking about it, was that really the case? He had heard that voice, hadn’t he? And she just claimed to not have caused it. That meant someone else had, or that she was lying. And only death witches or the morally deficient would lie. That gave him a few options. Either she was a death witch or morally deficient or she was telling the truth and it was someone else in the tree the entire time with Kaegen, someone he hadn’t seen, heard smelt or felt. Someone he hadn’t even sensed. A lot of times when things are hiding, he got the feeling he was being watched. Everyone got that feeling, it wasn’t unique to him or anything. And it was more or less reliable, too. Sometimes it rang for no reason, and sometimes it didn’t ring at all. But if something was trapped in a tree right next to him for this long, he should have felt at least uneasy, right?
Was he slipping? Was he… his worrying thoughts were only temporarily suppressed when dipper walked around him and then asked a simple question with anything other than simple implications.
“Did someone trap you?”
Who the heck was she talking to? He clearly wasn’t trapped himself. It’s not like someone whose name carried authority from the conqueror of the 14th dark place would get trapped by his own snare. She must be talking to someone else, then. But who? The answer hit him harder than he was hoping it would. There was something on his back. He had a creature, a demon, on his back and he didn’t even know it. It must be stuck there, it was stuck on his back. That was what she was going to try and save, that was what spoke and that was what she was talking to. The demon, the creature, the thing on his back was trying to kill him, that was the only plausible answer. Kill him or sap his energy or trick him into breaking a promise or whatever.
But that wasn’t going to work, not with Kaegen. Not with the prefect of ravenclaw. That thing was going to die, and he was going to kill it. The boy’s eyes turned dark, black as a starless night. Fangs shot out of sore gums, not fully recovered since the last time something like this had happened. His hand shot to his back, but he felt nothing. Long, strong, dull pointed fingernails scratching and reaching for his back, trying to rend and shred at a non-existing thing, and when he found nothing his mind turned from rage to panic. Horrible panic that something was on his back, something he could not reach or touch. The boy began thrashing about like a berserk dog trying to grab a hold of its tail.
He span around, faster and faster and more violent by the second, ripping through his robe and scrabbling at the leather straps and containers that made up his shirt. If the girl didn’t move, she would be in the line of fire, a comically terrified tasmanian devil of a child trying to kill his own back coming closer and closer, centrifugal forge sending him towards her.
He hadn’t said anything, had just silently listened while hanging by a rope until he had started violently thrashing about, trying to rip off his own back, but failing miserably.
So much for answering.
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice
16 Sep 2018, 20:56
Where common sense goes to die
"Whoa!"
That word was perfect for the situation. Dorothy took a few startled steps backward at the boy's sudden and furious motion. She hadn't done anything to cause his reaction, so she was momentarily stunned by his rapid change. Keagan's eyes looked different, though it may have been a trick of the light. Dorothy also noticed, to her disgust, that the strange boy's fingernails were quite long. In her opinion, only girls should have long nails. It was a feminine trait, and on guys it just looked a little like.. Claws. In fact, on Keagan, it looked a good deal like claws.
His "claws" were tearing his robes up. The boy frantically spun in circles scratching his back. Was there a spider down his shirt? Dorothy's eyebrows shot up at this thought. Spiders weren't exactly her favorite thing in the world, and she would totally understand his reaction if he had one down his robes. She shuddered at the thought and searched his back with her eyes as he spun by again. No spider as far as she could tell. Still, he flailed, and scraped, and scratched, and turned. Dorothy was becoming a bit concerned for him.
Then, she grinned splendidly. This must be a game! He must be trying to play with her. Dorothy hadn't much experience when it came to playing, unless it was in the form of cards or wizards chess. Was this how children "played"? What was she to do? She clasped her hands and further observed his actions. Keagan was clawing at his back, which mean't he was either very itchy, or trying to get something off it. If he was trying to get something off it, something disagreeable must have been clinging to him. If something disagreeable was clinging to him, he must want Dorothy to help him get it off. Yes, that would be it.
My, he was good at acting! The terrified expression on the boys pale features had nearly convinced Dorothy something was actually wrong. Well, if he was acting, she would too. The blonde looked at the boy with a concerned expression on her face. She moved a little closer, though not in his reach, and spoke loudly. "Oh dear! You're not nice, are you? Can't you see he wants you off? Oh! Get off him!" Caught up in the moment, she rushed over to the nearest bit of tangled brush and pulled out a rotting branch. Dorothy then sprinted back over to Keagan, a ferocious expression on her face, and thwacked the poor boy thrice on the back, sending him flying about like a pinata and possibly squishing his fingers in the process.
As if suddenly realizing what she was doing, the young Hufflepuff dropped the moist branch to the forest floor, which broke in half upon impact. She glanced around for any witnesses to her actions before speaking to Keagan in a soft, but excited tone. "I, um, killed it. It's gone now. Good thing it was stuck on your robe, or else we might have gotten hurt. " Her eyes, which had suddenly become bright with the idea of their game, turned to the forest floor. A small smile appeared momentarily on her face, but was replaced with a serious expression. "We'd better make sure it can't get anyone else. I'll handle it."
Dorothy reached into her robe and extracted a small jar filled with peppercorns, which she dumped out. She crouched down to the right of Keagan's still rotating form and dragged the open jar along the ground, scooping up dirt and rotting leaves from under his head. She quickly clamped the jar shut and held it out for the boy to see. "Got it. Now it won't get on anyone else" Dorothy moved the jar to her side and waited for the boy to make the next move in the "game".
Was this the type of game you could win?
Stamina: 4 - Agility: 5 - Strength: 7 - Control: 3 - Arcane Power: 6 - Accuracy: 5
21 Sep 2018, 19:44
Where common sense goes to die
The boy didn’t see or hear anything that was going on around him, could see nothing but darkness and terror as he tried again and again to wrench whatever being had latched on to him off. He could dimly feel pain, as unseen claws raked his back again and again. But the pain was dim, hardly noticeable above the panic. It was similar to the panic of claustrophobia. That feeling you are trapped, the feeling that there is nothing you can do to stop the onslaught of walls on all sides, pressing in, choking you. Except there were no walls. Just a demon.
He could sort of tell that something else was happening, dimly recognize in some dark corner that the girl still existed, that she was doing things herself, interpreting the situation from her perspective. And her perspective was an odd one. Kaegen made no move to stop or block the incoming stick. He felt the impact and redoubled his efforts to claw away at the invisible figure he was sure still found itself latched, much like a parasite, somewhere on his back. An unholy talking flea that would not go away.
Or perhaps flea wasn’t the right word. The prefect felt another sound thwack, felt the sharp pain of the demon’s strike. At this point in time he was hysterical. Adrenaline blasting through him, vampiric blood blasting to the surface in a tidal wave of inky black animalistic power. He had tangled himself up more and more in the loop he was hanging from earlier, Loops going around his foot, his legs. He was doing somersaults and backflips, contortions that stretched the limits of flexibility a boy his age should realistically have. The more the boy tore away at his robe the more of his leather straps came into view, and with them all the bizarre things he had tucked away. There were rusty nails, sacks and bags full of mysterious items. Knives and bits of metal stuck out from sheathes made of the strangest material. There were even a few random sticks here and there.
And then he felt the third lash, driving him into a frenzy. The boy’s mouth was agape, fangs, small though they were, were dripping with his own blood, originated from the split gums as he tried to bite himself in the back, physics thwarting his attempts again and again. But then he heard something, someone, say some words that he only barely understood. He had been hearing everything the girl had said, but the words had entered his ears and not registered his a brain flooded by the dark vampiric side of the prefect. The side of him that didn’t want or care about anything that wasn’t killing, that wasn’t surviving. But the girl mentioned something to do with death, she had said she killed it. And that made the boy listen, listen just enough for him to actually register what the girl was saying.
She had killed it
And the boy stopped, just stopped. His limp body had been moving at incredible speeds at ridiculous angles. That didn’t come without a price, without a cost to the body. It was like someone had cut all of his strings, all of them but the one actual string, the one that suspended him from the tree. He saw her put something in a jar. Put the demon in a jar. He had no idea how she had managed that, how she had so easily contained what he had failed to kill with all of his strength. The rush of vampiric might subsided as quickly as it had emerged, eyes fading back to their normal dark blueish stormy grey, fangs relaxing, slowly moving back out of sight, leaving a bleeding mouth that dripped blood on the marshy floor below in a steady monotonous drip. drip. drip.
He could hear her clearly now, saying that it wouldn’t get anyone else. She had done it, whatever it was. This girl was strong. She was extremely powerful and she was neutral, Kaegen had never met her before. But this level of skill was unprecedented. If she was a death witch he would put her at least threat level 8. The prefects mind spiraled in similar thoughts, wondering about dipper the demon hunter as he slowly spun about, dripping blood and limp and suspended from his own trap.
He could sort of tell that something else was happening, dimly recognize in some dark corner that the girl still existed, that she was doing things herself, interpreting the situation from her perspective. And her perspective was an odd one. Kaegen made no move to stop or block the incoming stick. He felt the impact and redoubled his efforts to claw away at the invisible figure he was sure still found itself latched, much like a parasite, somewhere on his back. An unholy talking flea that would not go away.
Or perhaps flea wasn’t the right word. The prefect felt another sound thwack, felt the sharp pain of the demon’s strike. At this point in time he was hysterical. Adrenaline blasting through him, vampiric blood blasting to the surface in a tidal wave of inky black animalistic power. He had tangled himself up more and more in the loop he was hanging from earlier, Loops going around his foot, his legs. He was doing somersaults and backflips, contortions that stretched the limits of flexibility a boy his age should realistically have. The more the boy tore away at his robe the more of his leather straps came into view, and with them all the bizarre things he had tucked away. There were rusty nails, sacks and bags full of mysterious items. Knives and bits of metal stuck out from sheathes made of the strangest material. There were even a few random sticks here and there.
And then he felt the third lash, driving him into a frenzy. The boy’s mouth was agape, fangs, small though they were, were dripping with his own blood, originated from the split gums as he tried to bite himself in the back, physics thwarting his attempts again and again. But then he heard something, someone, say some words that he only barely understood. He had been hearing everything the girl had said, but the words had entered his ears and not registered his a brain flooded by the dark vampiric side of the prefect. The side of him that didn’t want or care about anything that wasn’t killing, that wasn’t surviving. But the girl mentioned something to do with death, she had said she killed it. And that made the boy listen, listen just enough for him to actually register what the girl was saying.
She had killed it
And the boy stopped, just stopped. His limp body had been moving at incredible speeds at ridiculous angles. That didn’t come without a price, without a cost to the body. It was like someone had cut all of his strings, all of them but the one actual string, the one that suspended him from the tree. He saw her put something in a jar. Put the demon in a jar. He had no idea how she had managed that, how she had so easily contained what he had failed to kill with all of his strength. The rush of vampiric might subsided as quickly as it had emerged, eyes fading back to their normal dark blueish stormy grey, fangs relaxing, slowly moving back out of sight, leaving a bleeding mouth that dripped blood on the marshy floor below in a steady monotonous drip. drip. drip.
He could hear her clearly now, saying that it wouldn’t get anyone else. She had done it, whatever it was. This girl was strong. She was extremely powerful and she was neutral, Kaegen had never met her before. But this level of skill was unprecedented. If she was a death witch he would put her at least threat level 8. The prefects mind spiraled in similar thoughts, wondering about dipper the demon hunter as he slowly spun about, dripping blood and limp and suspended from his own trap.
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice
26 Sep 2018, 18:22
Where common sense goes to die
When the boy stopped clawing at himself, and Dorothy took a closer look at him, two things became immediately apparent. One, the boy was most definitely not playing. As little as she knew about games, bleeding was usually not involved. The terror she had witnessed, the aggression, it had all been genuine.
More importantly, Dorothy had just made a complete fool of herself. She had struck a random boy thrice with a stick in wild pleasure. That could be seen as bullying, considering she was a bit taller than him. Luckily, no one seemed to be around. A few subtle glances in each direction quickly confirmed that they were completely alone.
The second thing she noticed, was that the boy looked at her in shock. What had been a game to her was extremely real to him. She realized that in his mind, she had actually killed a demon. This unexpected situation was not something she was sure how to react to, so for a moment she simply watched him spin.
This boy was certainly not a human. Thinking back, she had seen his eyes change, and maybe his teeth too. Blood dripped from his ajar mouth, bubbling up from the empty spaces where his canines should be. Bloody H- had she knocked out his teeth?
So he wasn’t human, and he thought she’d killed something. The boy had demonstrated some animal like qualities in his agility and speed, which for a boy his size and age, were quite impressive. Inhuman even. Dorothy quickly decided it wouldn’t do to get on his bad side. She took a moment to calculate her next move, before glancing up at the tangled rope that suspended him from the tree.
The boy was stuck, to put it plainly. If he hadn’t been before, he certainly was now. She wanted to help him get down, but didn’t want him to think she was attempting to harm him. If he came after her the way he went after his own back…
“Do you need help getting down, Keagan?” His name had been thrown into the question as she decided to refrain from making him think there was another demon present. She had used her only jar already. If he could move the way she had seen, he may not even need assistance escaping the rope. It seemed polite to ask, though.
Her eyes traveled to the forest floor, where an assortment of strange objects lay scattered below him. Dorothy placed the jar of pepper corns and “the demon” on the ground and busied herself with gently shoving his things into a single pile with the toe of her shoe. When most of the things had been collected (other than a few stray nails) she glanced back at the rotating boy.
This situation was more dangerous than it looked
Stamina: 4 - Agility: 5 - Strength: 7 - Control: 3 - Arcane Power: 6 - Accuracy: 5
27 Sep 2018, 02:40
Where common sense goes to die
He was tired, feeling sick and spinning through the air. Vampiric blood having used up the last of its strength and retreated back to whatever dark corner it called it’s home. Dark and foul was the mark it left on the boy, deep and vile the impact it made on who the prefect was. Like a tide, washing up on the rocks and wearing them down, bit by bit. Carrying rubble and seaweed, filth from the sea to drop on the previously clean beach.
The boy had been raised in the fashion of a beast, of an emotionless warrior of mist and shadow. A huntsman of night and mystery. But things never really work out as they are planned, and as terrifying his upbringing might have been, it didn’t change who he was, couldn’t erase the small bit of basic humanity that had clung onto the hardened little heart with all its might.
Half of his blood was vampiric, he was faster than most of the students, more cunning and deadly than his peers. But he was human, and more than that, just a boy, a little boy that had somehow ended up in a place that didn’t really understand what was going on in his mind, just as he didn’t understand what was going on in the minds of his fellow students. One friend, a pet and legions of enemies was what made up the environment the prefect found himself in. But he himself didn’t even realize this. Didn’t understand what was going on in his own life, didn’t understand how lost he really was.
To him, this was perfect, this was normal. Of course enemies were everywhere, they always were. The world was fundamentally evil, and evil permeated the world. That wasn’t anything to get flustered over, that was just how the world worked, you had to live with it or die. No one had ever explained love to him, explained compassion. He knew a little of pity, and chalked it up to be the same thing.
The few books he had read back in the fens had been of war, books of fighting techniques and traps. He knew that feeling tired, that giving up would lead to pain in the end, it would lead to an eventual defeat, or demise. But he didn’t care. He was tired, he wanted a nap. A nice nap in the sun, or here, for that matter. Here was fine.
When the girl asked him if he wanted help coming down, he had to give himself a pep talk before being able to answer her, eyelids rapidly gaining weight.
“Yes”
It was almost unintelligible, a nearly silent whisper that teamed up with a rather large, and unusually quiet yawn to paint a clear picture of exhaustion. The finishing touch was when the boy’s eyes closed completely and the rise and fall of his chest reduced to almost nothing. Kaegen Deathmote, Fens-born Scarf-wielder had fallen asleep hanging from a tangled snare.
The boy had been raised in the fashion of a beast, of an emotionless warrior of mist and shadow. A huntsman of night and mystery. But things never really work out as they are planned, and as terrifying his upbringing might have been, it didn’t change who he was, couldn’t erase the small bit of basic humanity that had clung onto the hardened little heart with all its might.
Half of his blood was vampiric, he was faster than most of the students, more cunning and deadly than his peers. But he was human, and more than that, just a boy, a little boy that had somehow ended up in a place that didn’t really understand what was going on in his mind, just as he didn’t understand what was going on in the minds of his fellow students. One friend, a pet and legions of enemies was what made up the environment the prefect found himself in. But he himself didn’t even realize this. Didn’t understand what was going on in his own life, didn’t understand how lost he really was.
To him, this was perfect, this was normal. Of course enemies were everywhere, they always were. The world was fundamentally evil, and evil permeated the world. That wasn’t anything to get flustered over, that was just how the world worked, you had to live with it or die. No one had ever explained love to him, explained compassion. He knew a little of pity, and chalked it up to be the same thing.
The few books he had read back in the fens had been of war, books of fighting techniques and traps. He knew that feeling tired, that giving up would lead to pain in the end, it would lead to an eventual defeat, or demise. But he didn’t care. He was tired, he wanted a nap. A nice nap in the sun, or here, for that matter. Here was fine.
When the girl asked him if he wanted help coming down, he had to give himself a pep talk before being able to answer her, eyelids rapidly gaining weight.
“Yes”
It was almost unintelligible, a nearly silent whisper that teamed up with a rather large, and unusually quiet yawn to paint a clear picture of exhaustion. The finishing touch was when the boy’s eyes closed completely and the rise and fall of his chest reduced to almost nothing. Kaegen Deathmote, Fens-born Scarf-wielder had fallen asleep hanging from a tangled snare.
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice
3 Oct 2018, 15:16
Where common sense goes to die
Dorothy was twelve. Twelve. No situation of youth could have possibly prepared her for the conundrum that gently swung in the breeze only inches from her face. What the Hufflepuff lacked in experience, she made up for in empathy and logic. Either she had majorly bashed his brains during the whole stick incident, or he was just tired. And she was just tired, so it was easy to relate to his “passed out and swinging from a tree” state.
Medically and logically speaking, hanging upside down didn’t do good things to your brain. Dorothy was sure it eventually caused your brain to leak out of your ears, but that may or may not have come from an extremely unreliable source. True, an angry house elf scolding her for tree climbing may have said some biased things, but remember. Dorothy was twelve.
Considering that he probably shouldn’t swing a lot, and he’d asked her to help him down, Dorothy reached down and gingerly retrieved one of the knife thingys. She held it with her thumb and index finger, eyeing it with her nose scrunched up in disgust. It was impossible to tell what the knife was made of and where it had been, so she retrieved her third-best handkerchief and wrapped it around the handle.
Gripping the tree with the knife in hand, Dorothy shimmied up the slippery bark to the branch with the tangled ropes. She gently placed the knife thingy between two branches, like a very concerning knifey shelf, and gripped the rope in her left hand. Tracing it to the tangles suspending the sleeping boy, she figured if she cut the rope in the right place, she could grab the cut end and heave Keagan to the ground, pulley-fashion.
Taking the knife thingy, she began sawing away at the rope. The knife was alarmingly sharp, and snapped the rope before Dorothy was prepared to catch it. Only a adrenaline fueled lurch for the twine prevented Keagan from receiving a trip to the hospital wing. Dorothy had to lean completely backwards and loop her legs awkwardly around two forked tree-branches to keep from being pulled down. Once positioned, she slowly worked at letting him down, hand over hand, until he gently crumpled to the leafy forest floor. A puddle lay just to his right, and Dorothy only then realized how close she’d been to setting him in it.
That would have been unfortunate. Letting go of the rope and untangling her own legs, Dorothy tossed the knife thingy away from them and slid down the tree. She was just going to leave when she suddenly realized how that would look. Maybe like a murder attempt. So, Dorothy stepped over his unconscious form and sat down with her back against a tree. Perhaps she would take a nap herself.
Thump. The noise resounded throughout the forest as Dorothy’s blonde head tipped back against the tree. A few bits of soggy bark fell in crumb-like pieces onto her wispy hair. Pulling her knees to her chest, Dorothy stared at the sky with reflective expression. It was very quiet, especially since the boy had stopped being a convulsing demon child. Dorothy relaxed against the tree, but valiantly fought off sleep. She wanted to be awake when Keagan stopped sleeping.
Yes, she would wait. It would be very suspicious if she just left, and Dorothy didn’t want to be absent when his motionless body was discovered. It would be much easier if she was allowed to explain the situation.
Sudden emotion overtook Dorothy, and she pushed herself off the tree and walked over to where the boy lay. He looked peaceful, content. It seemed unfair that he would feel that while laying on the ground. Dorothy realized just how tired he must be. A shaking hand reached towards his head and grasped a burnt clump of his hair. Wincing as she went (it felt like straw), Dorothy used his hair to lift his head of the floor. Her yellow and grey scarf, the second one she’d owned and sacrificed, was slipped quickly under his head. Dorothy released his head and jumped back to her tree, resuming her previous position.
She only wondered how long she’d have to wait. Hopefully this would be resolved before dinner.
ReducioGenerated result on the lifting thing.
Strength = 9
9-20
rolled 14
Point is she didn't drop him.
(Feel free to time skip or whatever)
Stamina: 4 - Agility: 5 - Strength: 7 - Control: 3 - Arcane Power: 6 - Accuracy: 5