when a banshee cries
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#1
It’s not dying I’m afraid of
How strange, to have a quest from a god. For that matter, what a strange collection of things it wants. Were Ludo’s rags from banshee’s before? Was that how it got them in the first place? She just assumed it magiked its clothing into existence, but perhaps it was a collection of many, many quests. ”Thanks for coming,” she says to Loren as they travel together, making the journey from Halo to the Grounds while they still could. Either she went now, or she had to wait a whole season to complete Ludo’s request, and taking extra long on the thing seemed like the wrong option, if she could help it.

Of course, that meant they needed to be successful today. ”So basically Ludo told me to slay a banshee with my scythe and bring it some of its rags,” she says, looking around the forest as if one might appear. They have only just reached the Woodland, but she pulls the scythe from her back in preparation as they continue to walk. ”But I admit, I have no idea how to find one.” Or how hard it would be to kill the thing with a weapon. That meant getting close, and also making sure they didn’t accidentally kill it in some other way. Possibly she could have done this hunt alone, but she appreciates the company, particularly given that this is unfamiliar territory. Besides, any smart hunter knows it is better to hunt in a group.

weaver

it’s dying without ever having lived

the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#2
Love mends even the broken parts
"Of course." Loren's response was easy and immediate. Right now, the Hollowed Ground was probably the only place other than Halo that he was welcome, and he didn't at all mind helping Weaver out. Unlike her, he was unarmed, but that wasn't necessarily saying much when it came to him.

Letting out a huff of laughter, he shrugged. "Sure why not." He'd heard of gods giving out stranger requests. Hell, he'd gotten stranger requests from the gods. As she revealed she didn't know how to find one, he frowned. "Me neither, to be honest. I've never encountered one before either." He gave her an almost apologetic look.
loren




Coding base by Sky!
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
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#3
It’s not dying I’m afraid of
The fact that he is unarmed doesn’t worry her. She has seen what he can do with only a single basic magic, let alone what he can do with his stronger ones. Besides, he doesn’t have to kill the thing, but rather just help her kill the banshee and not die in the process. Who better for that then a very magical healer?

”Well, then I suppose we just start looking, or possibly listening.” They may have better luck hearing a banshee rather than actually spotting it. ”Apparently they are either singing or crying,” she says with a shrug. Or with her luck, one would slip out quietly from behind her. Actually no, with her luck, they just wouldn’t find one (which in another other scenario, would be ideal).

weaver

it’s dying without ever having lived

the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#4
Love mends even the broken parts
Following Weaver, Loren rolled his neck, enjoying the quiet stroll while it lasted. From what she explained it probably wouldn't remain quiet for long. "Got it. Listen for women crying or singing." Brow furrowing, he glanced around at their surroundings. As he did, he strained his ears for any sign of a banshee.

However, he found himself growing a bit impatient, which was perhaps not the best mood for a hunter to be in. Giving her a curious look, he tilted his head to one side. "Think I should take to the sky? I might be able to spot one from up there." This was her hunt, though, and he'd follow her lead.
loren




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#5
RaNdOM
It starts softly, at first.

Haunting, wailing, ethereal.

A song that draws the duo through the woods, down towards the riverbank. It is as sweet as it is sad, like a lover's cry, a call to any listen.

A call that says come closer, come and see me, come.
EVENT
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#6
It’s not dying I’m afraid of
It may be her hunt, but she knows as much about banshee’s as Loren does. Though she may understand hunting better, there’s probably enough of a significant difference between hunting hares and hunting mythical creatures that her knowledge doesn’t much matter. She’s about to agree with him, her head halfway through a nod that he should scout ahead, when she hears something.

Weaver stops walking rather abruptly, putting a hand in the air as if to say ‘stop’. She can hear something, and she looks to Loren. ”You got some animal hearing in that bag of tricks?” she says in a whisper. They may not need it though, because some part of her is drawn to the sound, and she has to throw up every mental wall she has to remember her task.

”We should split up slightly. See if you can draw it’s attention, and maybe I can sneak up.” Her voice remains a whisper, and though they have some space to go to actually find the thing, she’d rather give the suggestions now while they are far enough away and have time. She veers off from him, keeping Loren in her sights as best she can, but leaving space between them. Then quietly, scythe ready and held close against her chest, she creeps through the woods toward the riverbank and the sound of that song.

weaver

it’s dying without ever having lived

the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#7
Love mends even the broken parts
Recognizing the sign (and hearing the cry) Loren stopped. Raising his eyebrows, he lifted a hand and wobbled it a bit in the 'kind of' gesture. Regardless, he compelled some nearby birds to scout ahead, hoping to get some warning or information about what lay ahead.

Nodding at her suggestion, he watched her head off for a brief moment. Then he forged ahead, not bothering to be stealthy in the slightest. Indeed, he stamped down on branches, brushed against leaves as he walked, and whistled a bit, and generally drew attention to himself. Trusting in his birds to give him warning of an attack (and in his strength and speed to protect him) he was happy to play the hound to her hunter.
loren




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#8
RaNdOM
And play to it Loren would.

The singing abruptly halts as the healer makes his way through the woods, sticks and leaves crunching underfoot, his whistling a stark contrast to the banshee's wail.

Silence, for what feels like days.

But as Loren spies the riverbank, he will see her. Hunched over the water, skeletal and cloaked in rags and moss, the banshee spies him with too-bright eyes through a curtain of matted hair.

The birds chirp a warning just before she screeches, and flings herself towards him with unnatural speed.



The banshee attacks Loren! Its screech SUCCESSFULLY paralyzes him. (She crit, sorry!)
EVENT
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#9
It’s not dying I’m afraid of
Well, he is a very good distraction. Too good, actually. Loren is loud, drawing the attention of the banshee that sits at the edge of the riverbank. She is hunched over, and everything feels so very unnatural in the worst possible way. The forest is suddenly too quiet without her singing, as if even the trees are holding their breath.

Weaver continues to creep up on the other side from Loren, getting closer to the banshee and a place to strike from when the birds cry and the banshee screeches. Weaver nearly turns and runs at the sound, her spine crawling. The banshee flings itself at Loren though, and Weaver responds. No longer concerned about being quiet, she lunges forward, closing the distance between her and back of the banshee as quickly as she can. When she thinks she is close enough, she sweeps the blade of the scythe toward the creature, hoping to catch it from behind and end this quickly.

weaver

it’s dying without ever having lived

the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#10
Love mends even the broken parts
Even with all of his careful preparation, Loren found that nothing could quite prepare him for the banshee's screeching. His instincts took over in the worst possible way. Instead of fighting or fleeing, or doing anything, really, he found himself frozen in place, rooted right where he was, staring with wide eyes as the creature flung itself towards him.

Try as he might, he couldn't get his magic or his body or his shifts to respond to his commands, his mind having gone entirely blank. All he could do was offer up a fervent prayer that somehow Weaver would get here in time, or that he'd recover before the banshee could do too much damage.
loren




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#11
RaNdOM
Her hands - oh gods but her hands are grotesque, fingers too long and tipped with sharp, inky points, as if the flesh has been stretched and filed and stretched again. She reeks of the swamp, of old blood and rotting flesh, and the scream that rips out of her throat, while not as paralyzing as the one which rooted Loren to begin with, begs for violence.

The banshee's claws rake across Loren's chest just before Weaver arrives, but when she does - oh, my.

Swooping in a spectacular arc and catching the banshee across the back and around the waist, the hunter not only slices and skewers the creature, but yanks her out of Loren's path as well. Wailing now, the banshee attempts to find her footing, a scrabbling and mad thing, slashing at anything she can get close to.



The banshee rakes Loren across the chest with its claws!
Weaver manages to slice it and pull it out of Loren's path.
Loren is no longer paralysed.
EVENT
Weaver Hale
the Scythe
Warden of the Citadel

Age: 33 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 4 - Strg: 10 - Dext: 13 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 22 - Int:
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#12
It’s not dying I’m afraid of
She can’t really see the front of the creature, can only hear the scream and catch sight of hands clawing toward Loren, who does not seem to be moving. Weaver cannot be sure what’s happening, so she focuses on the scythe, on the banshee, and succeeds in slicing its back and flinging the creature away from Loren.

Weaver does not pause to make sure he’s alright, particularly given that she knows his healing magic is far stronger than her own. She takes only a moment to turn her gaze to him, just to make sure there’s not panic written in his eyes or some inability to heal she wouldn’t have foreseen. If he’s desperate, she’ll stop.

She’d rather not stop though. She’d rather not let their prey get her feet back under her. There’s no honor in the way Weaver hunts, but it isn’t about honor, it’s about winning. Weaver rushes at the banshee, trying to keep herself out of reach of those hands, using the long shaft of the scythe to her advantage. Weaver slashes at the creature, aiming for her neck more than anything, though she’ll happily take a hand if she can manage. Those fingers, those nails...if they could even be called nails. It would not be so terrible to remove them.

***
Weaver follows the banshee and tries to cut its neck (or remove some creepy hands).

weaver

it’s dying without ever having lived

the Firebrand
Headmaster / Grand Healer

Age: 29 | Height: 5' 11' | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
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#13
Love mends even the broken parts
He was not desperate. He was not worried. He was not distressed. He was not panicked.

He was pissed.

As the nails raked across Loren's chest, leaving bright sparks of pain behind, the spell was finally broken. He found both his body and his magic responding to his commands once more. Thankfully, Weaver managed to buy him both some space and some time as well. Letting out a fierce battle cry, he threw his hands outward, pushing out with his magic as he did.

And a dragon appeared, curling around him. Its claw shot forward, hoping to pin the banshee underneath. Although he knew the huntress had to strike the final blow, he was more than willing to hold down the creature as long as it took to accomplish the task.



Loren summons a dragon and tries to pin the banshee beneath a claw.
loren




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#14
RaNdOM
There is hunting, and then there is what goes down.

The banshee has just about gotten her footing when the dragon appears and the scythe appears, and what follows is best described as an execution.

Easy enough perhaps, but with the level of overkill here, is there any wonder?

Pinned beneath the dragon's claws, the banshee attempts another piercing shriek with the intent to paralyse whoever might be around, however it is brutally cut off by the swipe of Weaver's blade.

There is some choking, some feeble shrieking, and then the banshee is still.



You did it! EZPZ. (Dragons, much?) Weaver can collect whatever rags she likes from the banshee. The RE account does not need to post again, so RP to your hearts' content!
EVENT


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