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Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
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#1

Even though the fire spirit lady was a fucking nutcase, it got Wessex out to the River - the wide, fast-flowing river which led to god(dess) knows where. Except that Wessex wants to know where. What lies beyond? What treasures and tribulations wait for the sheltered, traumatized people of Caido in the great, dark beyond?

The sun goes down on the late-Spring day, puffy white clouds turning a vibrant pink and orange in the darkening sky. Wessex stands at the edge of the path she once followed fireballs down, ready to boldly go where few of their kind have gone in at least three hundred and some odd years. She is as prepared as she was for the Spire: bow and quiver of arrows, a circle of sturdy rope, some small knives hidden in various places, and a pouch full of various herbs and bandages - just in case someone should join her who does indeed bleed, and then needs medical attention. Or something like that.

Look, Wessex learned various little self-sustaining tricks when she was fully human, ok? She can stitch her own wounds up and everything.

Anyway. She’s decided she’ll wait here for a bit, having spread the word that she'll be venturing forth two days or so ago. If no one comes, she’ll be off on her lonesome - no harm, no foul.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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#2


Are
Wood against hardened leather, the creaking of belts and straps tugging at the half-giant as he on thick-soled boots walked a path he barely recognized from the trance-like state he'd been in last he went down it. The cycle of dumb risks, getting hurt, and being cooped up had finally flipped around, although he could still feel the weakness in his leg. Scar tissue stretching uncomfortable and scab itching like nothing else. No damn tonic or foul smelling poultice could make it less annoying apparently, at least he was alive.

Being back there awoke memories. Magical fire still engulfing him as he closed his eyes, the scars reminded him, as did the blackened shield slung over his shoulder. An oaken savior kept close at hand, especially if one where to trundle into the woods again.

Mistakes had been made, wounds mended, and now he was more ready than ever before. Clad in gambeson, cuirass, reinforced helmet and with an axe as sharp as ever he broke into the clearing next to the mighty river, lantern lighting up the path where he went.

"Heill." he said and nodded at Wessex, his voice devoid of the usual jovial tone. Serious matters required serious minds, no place for chatty cobblers or worried friends. No, that day he was a better man, a stoic warrior forging ahead into a the unknown.

What was that in the woods? A bear? Wolves? No... Just the wind.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
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Posts: 715
MP:
#3

So that’s it then. One.

She should have known better. The world doesn’t work for her the way it does for Rory. She puts out a call for explorers and she gets the freaked out new guy from the Spire. She can’t rouse the Naturals and she can’t command her own kind. Although to be fair, if her kind could be commanded, they probably wouldn’t be Ascended, so… figure that shit out if you can.

“Hey,” she says back, figuring thats what he meant to say. The blond-haired, blue-eyed woman looks the very tall man up and down, running a quick assessment on whether or not he’ll be a liability again.   “How’s your head?” As in, how long did it take you to recover from that bump I gave you? But also how’s your state of mind? Cause she’ll bring him along, Are just needs to be prepared - cause she’ll also leave him high and dry if he becomes a burden.

Sorry not sorry. That’s just how Wessex rolls.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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#4


Are
"Well enough to know I've seen you before." Are answered, knowing full well the kind of person he expected behind words like those. He'd seen it before, at least his imagination running wild convinced him of it. A hard voice backed by hard eyes, a touch of that eerie stillness that hung over some people he'd met around the settlement. Oftentimes at the same time as they found themselves in, a moment beyond sun kissed dusk.

"We off into fae lands?" his question came out harder than expected, ground sharp by both state of mind and his harsh dialect. Only a moment later he realized how dark he must've looked. Armored and jaw clenched as if staring down a hungry wolf. He allowed a deep breath to loosen the worst of the tensions, although he couldn't shake the feeling of being studied instead of seen.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 715
MP:
#5

Wessex grins; a sort of feral expression that seems to hint at both amusement and ferocity blended together. It isn’t necessarily reassuring, but it’s enough to say that she won’t harm him. He’s shown up and they’re in this together. She’s not much of a talker though, giving him a solid “Yep,” as a reply to both the statement and question. They venture into the great unknown, sally forth on only their bravery and wits, chancing danger and death with every step.

But he’s a Viking, a great explorer. And she’s been tasked with mapping the Greatwood, lending her eyes to her Goddess so that they may… what? Conquer the world?

Ha. She can only hope.

Nevertheless, she turns and faces the river before them with a sense of appraisal. “Let’s try keep the river within sight or sound for now. I’ve a map if we get lost.” Looking back at the armored man, she gestures for the two of them to walk together, and if he chooses to fall in step, she will follow it up with, “I’m Wessex. You are?”

It is an opportunity to start anew. For him, at least.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301
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#6


Are
Going off alone into the dark woods in the company of one with those eyes seemed like absolute idiocy. In other words, just brash enough to keep the cobbler heading forward without careening off the path into yet another disaster. Although if anything it would be another welcome break from the monotony of trying to keep the whole of Caido shod.

"Seems good." he said and nodded. Setting off into the great unknown, one well worn shoe in front of the other, praying to whomever might listen that the woman was at least half as competent as she seemed, and hopefully less than half as hard.

"Yes." he answered in a stiff attempt at a joke, but his accent making it sound more curt than joking. "I mean, yes, I am Are. Cobbler." Are followed up, hoping to brush away his stupid little quip.

"They're small, but feisty." he remarked, drawing upon what little experience he had with the 'álfar' as he called them in his head. For that what what they resembled the most, mystical, winged little people that seemed hell bent on keeping to themselves.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
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Posts: 715
MP:
#7

“Shoes?” she asks, with a look of interest. Huh. An adventuring cobbler. How unique. “I wasn’t expecting that.”  What she was expecting is entirely unknown. Even to her. But it definitely wasn’t that.

Of course, Wessex has no need for shoes. She doesn’t feel the cold, the heat, or pain. She doesn’t form blisters and she won’t bleed if something pierces her skin. She will leave a silvery trail behind her, but she may not even register it until her ‘systems’ tell her so. She’s lucky she hasn’t had to test her healing abilities yet. Just, you know, stay away from the blasted sun.

The river rushes along beside them, behind a line of bushes and down a rock-lined bank. She listens for other unnatural noises and is keenly aware that they might suddenly find their path blocked, the two of them surrounded, or that caution may simply plague her mind all night and nothing important will happen. Nevertheless, Are’s statement registers. “Have you had contact with them?”

The more she knows, the better, and she isn’t above prying it out of someone else.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
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Posts: 301
MP:
#8


Are
For a second he saw a glimmer of... Something. Hard eyes for a moment concerned with what new title to add to the cobbler, but just as quickly as he saw it it passed. Could just as easily had been a figment of his imagination, starlight making his imagination run wild for a mere moment. Thinking he'd seen some fault in the statue, but it only being the marble playing tricks on him. Nerves maybe.

"Them." he grumbled. Fae, elves, álfar. Winged, ornery shits, just as varying as most folks, but having met two of them Are couldn't shake that there was something sinister in them. More somethings to add to the ever growing list of things Are barely understood, or things he understood just enough to get himself into trouble. He thought, his fingers making sure his axe was still by his side.

"Yes. Not enough to tell you anything beyond them having a knack for making me... cross." a small snort escaped, a stifled laugh as he remembered where he was and with whom. Maybe tidbits about how he felt was appropriate hadn't been exactly what Wessex meant, Are realized. "I mean, they seem to like bows, and hiding out in the woods. First one I met almost put an arrow through me. Gave me the chance to talk though. Thanking the gods for that one." he elaborated as they passed deeper into the woods. The meager light of his covered lantern not illuminating more than a few yards before his feet.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 715
MP:
#9

If there are faults it’s by design, this marble is an imperfect mask made to hide the perfections unachievable by man. Or so The Voice would say to her bright one. Something that Are could be, too, if he were brave enough to step away from his cobbling bench.

She laughs, too. An unexpected burst of surprise at how the man describes his reaction. Cross. Like a mother with unruly children, or a teacher, or even Wessex herself when dealing with most of Caido’s population. And in that moment, she decides to ease up on Are a bit, having decided that he is nothing if not slightly entertaining right now. A nod accompanies his description as her eyes travel the woods around them, having a distinct feeling that they wouldn’t see any Fae until they wanted to be seen.

“I imagine they’re all over the Greatwood,” she adds, making no move to be quieter than before. Let them hear her. “Watching us. It would be stupid to assume otherwise.” Especially if one already tried to put an arrow into the large, but relatively harmless cobbler. She can see where one might take him for a threat, however, given the axe he carries and the way he might loom over someone. But Wessex knows how hard he falls, and how much force it takes to send him to the ground.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#10


Are
The laugh made him jump. An errant twitch at the hollow expression of joy. He knew that sound, all the things where there, but it all lacked a certain sheen. Hirdmen that had seen far too much, scarred in both body and soul, they too had that lack of something. A shiver went down the cobblers spine as he understood, that there, at that very moment, irregardless of armor, weapons, stature and determination. He was just a very small cobbler in a very big, dark forest. One filled to the brim with uncertainties and evil things on their way to do evil deeds, and with Are's luck, he'd be just enough in the way to get hurt. Even with the thought of hungry wolves and angry Fae to keep him company, he couldn't shake the feeling that the one he should about the most was just a few steps from him. Like a wolf herding a roedeer towards a sudden drop.

Even as he was returned to reality, leaving his racing thoughts to stew on top a flame of fear. Smoldering and bubbling, sending little puffs of ice-cold panic through him at every noise louder than the rustling leaves. Focus. Are tried to recall what Wessex had been saying, something about the Fae and them sneaking around in the bushes. "Mhm..." was all he could muster through clenched teeth, pre-occupied with having his eyes dart around from shadow to shadow. Ears waiting for the muffled creak of a bow being drawn, and again that glint in the periphery as an arrow was leveled with his head.

Gods! It was just a sliver of moonlight on a puddle of water. Another shudder as tensions eased, knuckles returning from white and lungs drawing shaky, greedy breaths. "I wouldn't know, but seems safer assuming danger. Or at least threat." he grumbled, almost whispering, as if his heavy steps through the underbrush wouldn't already had alerted any would be assailant of his presens. "You know where we're going, right?" he asked tentatively. "And the way back..." the pretend-warrior added, whispering more to himself than to anyone else.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 715
MP:
#11

If Are wants to think of Wessex as the proverbial Big Bad Wolf, that’s on him. Sure, she’s given him a good whack on the head, but has she done anything to lead him down the scary, scary path? He’s the one who showed up for this adventure. She’s just the facilitator. So there must be something within the giant cobbler that says to him, ‘Yes, I want this encounter. I want to put myself in danger. I want to push the limits of my comfort and look death in the eye - again.

Why? Because it makes you feel alive, thats why. Because that adrenaline rush is fucking addicting. And for some, the possibility of ending it all is worth it. For others, it never seems like a real threat until boom - they’re dead. Wessex was of the latter ilk. She’s died. She knows.

The water still rushes loudly on her left, so the Ascended nods and gestures as if it’s self-explanatory. It’s not time (it might never be) to give away her secrets.

“Why? You nervous?”

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#12


Are
Nervous? Such a casual word for what amounted to the verge of absolute terror Are's mind balanced precariously at, a stiff breeze enough to send him into full panic. Nervous, probably an understatement, but there was more to the state of mind of the cobbler. Something strange that whispered sweet true lies in his ear that it was finally his moment. Finally a moment of redemption, to stumble into the great unknown but with resolve to temper the fear. A method to the madness. Are kept telling himself only fools never felt fear, and that courage came from overcoming one's fears. Be it a fear of heights or being savagely ripped to pieces by some horrifying monster in the deep dark woods.

Maybe answering the call had been brash, foolish even, but then and there the cobbler meant to see it through, whatever that meant. It didn't matter he was shivering like a leaf in the wind at the slightest rustle and sigh, because he was there. Forging ahead in the company of one almost as frightening as the woods themselves. Someone who's eyes, with just a simple glance, felt as if they read him like an open book. A poorly written, badly paced book of a coward trying to convince others he wasn't afraid when he couldn't even convince himself.

"Nervous?" he asked, now questioning more the choice of words than anything else. "I've drowned, choked, been strangled, burnt, nearly shot and now I'm heading off into woods that want me dead, at night, with an, excuse me, ruthless, cold one." Are rambled on, giving word to the tight knot he kept in his chest. It was, liberating to say the least, and was followed by a heavy sigh. "No, I'm not nervous, I'm scared shitless and yet I can't turn away." a weak laugh punctuating his tiny tantrum, eyes averted as if expecting Wessex to answer his pathetic mewling with a good measure of scorn and maybe another smack to the head.
Force and magic use OK.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 39 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural
Level: 1 - Strg: 27 - Dext: 29 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 24
Played by: Astor Online
Change author:
Posts: 715
MP:
#13

She’s more intrigued by his assessment of her than anything else that comes out of his mouth. Wessex shoots him a curious side-eyed glance, making a face in the darkness. While she doesn’t think he’s stupid per se, his depth of thought seems to be rather limited. Stuck in the reality of his home world, perhaps, or hell, maybe someone here has brainwashed him. Which isn’t to say that she’s looking to befriend the big man, but she hadn’t been trying to add anyone to her list of foes. Not right now.

Without looking at him, she responds as cool and hard-edged as he would have her be. “Then you’re an idiot. If I wanted to hurt you, I already would have. And I would have let you go into the Spire and trip over your own feet into your own death.”

All of a sudden she stops, and turns to face Are, clenching her fists to make her talons shwing out into the night, catching what little light filter in from the moon. Bringing them up in front of her chest, she completes his cliche version of an Ascended and runs her tongue along the metal in an oddly defiant slash bizarre move. Meant to frighten, perhaps, or show some degree of mental instability. “But you are right about one thing: I can be utterly ruthless. Cross me at your own risk.”

Pulling away, Wessex looks downstream and sheaths her talons. “I’ll walk the rest by myself.”

Are is no longer needed.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 23 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6
Played by: Wiggen Offline
Change author:
Posts: 301
MP:
#14


Are
Seeing the best in people and making of it as good a thing as you could, something that had been instilled in Are from the very beginning. A father always finding what little pinpricks of light could be found in every person. Be they greedy or evil, not dead though, and extraordinary situations demanded extraordinary thoughts. And credit where credit's due, Are did try to grasp what he had gotten himself into, not just the nightly expedition but the world as a whole, his new world. All the cobbler could produce as an answer to the sudden bout of vitriol was the look of a rabbit caught in the lantern's light, blinking, mouth firmly shut and tongue still for once.

It took him a good few moments to catch up with what it was Wessex was implying, and making the best of it meant he saw what little good it carried with it. Threatening, menacing even, as the Draugr was, Are still managed to make it out as some kind of approval. A gesture as kind as the cold one could manage, still, it didn't keep him from seizing up and white-knuckling his lantern. As flamboyant as the threatening gesture looked, it got the point across very clearly, and was answered by a stiff few nods and a noise somewhere between a rat's squeak and a coward choking on his own tongue.

He hadn't even been aware of the breath he'd held on to like it was his last, but as the Ascended disappeared into the dark he released it and almost sunk to his knees with the release. A few deep, gasping breaths to make the stars stop spinning and the roaring sound of his blood rushing simmer down a touch. Shaky, shivering, and a touch dizzy, but alive and at least safe in the knowledge that the scariest thing in the woods was heading in the other direction.

As to finding the way back, well, that was just as easy as following what little path they've gone down, easy enough...

Right?
Force and magic use OK.


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