Thread: Our own little Awakening. // Dream&Relix

Each of the woman's two skilled hands were soaked in a thick, sticky, red fluid. Before her was a creature, not that of a man, but that of a wolf. The creature cried out for his brother whom had gingerly knelt aside him. Mage! Mage, you are hurting him! he bellowed, though his garbled voice came out in a marred, low whimper. He watched with golden eyes of pure terror as the dark-haired woman's hands plunged into the bucket of fresh rain water aside her, then as she began to probe his brother's. She was taken aback by the stark frigidity the water held, so much so that it sent raw shivers through the nerves in her finger tips. Her two visitors had been werewolves, brothers that had been cursed by the Dalish guardian Zathrian. Six days ago the Dalish organized an assault on the werewolves within the Breccilian Forest. While they did not go far, they heavily wounded several of the werewolves. A handful of them heard word of a powerful apostate from the Dalish and decided to pursue the rumor while others remained skeptic, and holed themselves away in the bowels of the Breccilian ruins. B-Brother ... please, calm yourself. The ailing werewolf's wheeze startled the other. The uninjured wolf watched with sullen eyes as this selfless mage treated his kin, without even any monetary incentive. It was this lack of avarice the winsome woman possessed that imbued him with confidence, and made him realize his brother would survive. With what little power the dying beast could muster, he reached out to his brother, begging for his presence. I will not leave you, brother! This mage is powerful! She will save you! he preached. Though long since a child of the wood that had taken on Zathrian's curse, they still retained some human essence. The werewolves cared for each other, watched over each other, fought as a collective unit. Even they - majestic beasts of the Wilds - felt a need to display emotion. The mage, simply referred to as Banshee, was overwhelmed with the blood gushing from the werewolf's wound. However, it were her eyes, which were a similar shade to ginger-ale, that reflected her nonchalance. She had taken a thread and needle and stitched her patient's wound, but it was the pain that was overwhelming him. She positioned her hands a few inches above the incision which left the wolf's brother bewildered. Suddenly, a low, cerulean light emitted from her bloody palms. The squirming wolf's body was brought to an abrupt halt. He rested, still, on the bloody sheets of the mage's cot, his body completely motionless. Still breathing fell from the grace of his maw. Mage ... is he alright? Has he .. survived? The dark-haired woman did all but nod. I've ebbed his agony and postponed the pain to come. If he rests - undisturbed - then it's possible to completely avoid that trimester entirely. You both are welcome to stay here for a few days, until you are rested and capable of making the journey back north without hindrance. The werewolf breathed a sigh of relief. I think you mage. Mark my words ... your temperance will not go unrewarded. The mage scoffed. I've no need for material goods lest they be in the form of food, water or clothing. I only have one boon I think you may be able to grant. The softness in the woman's voice but the raging beast within him to rest. He peered guilelessly at her, cocking his head to the side as if to pose a question. Yes, mage? Anything. That you do not point the templars in my direction when you leave. Her chuckle was reassuring, though the werewolf was suddenly taken aback when he noticed the mage had been collecting things around her home. There were herbs she had placed neatly in a tiny satchel, then had hidden them in within her tunic. Mage? Where are you going? The werewolf inquired. When she did not answer he asked again but only received silence was a response. When she approached the door, the werewolf shot up from his perch and addressed her with a rather intimidating aura. Mage! You're leaving! She finally responded. Two templars are on their way here now. Someone in Lothering pointed them in my direction. If they find this hovel, they'll slaughter you. But you have the upper hand. Do what you must for protection ... but if they find me there will be complications. I'm confident you'll emerge unscathed. Good luck to you, Sazheir. The night had been nipping at the mage's heals with a relentless severity. The crickets chirped and sang, singing a song of the darkness to come. The woman had been brought to an abrupt halt as she had heard a voice cry out from a copse of oak trees aside the marsh. She emerged from a collection of bushes, overwhelming the plants with her size and raw power. She brought with her silence, first observing her visitor. He seemed innocent enough, so she decided to entertain him. Why would you come seeking the aid of a monster?listulistulistulistulistulistu