On Top of the World! {Ayvajin}

[Mjollnir]

“Three little children out in a field! One fell down to another… Yield! Upsy, downsy, all around… You’ll end up back in the… GROUND!” The uneven rhythm of the poorly rhymed lyrics echoed off the tall stone spires that populated the Stroikara Mountains. By the time the words came back to Mjollnir they sounded something along the lines of “iiiiileied”, whatever that meant to anyone. “You know, if I had a stronger voice and better lyrics… The acoustics of this place would serve as a wonderful amphitheatre! Lights… Audience… What is an audience? I mean… really… They’re like toads. Toads? Yes. Toads. Little slimy-”

An annoyed mew stopped the rant, “Right! Silly me – thank you Socrates – I forgot why we were here. But I remember now! We’re here for those nasty little shades. I wish they would come haunt us! If they’re truly spirits…” Mjollnir rubbed his chin with a gloved hand. If they were spirits, they were far beyond anything he could control. Maybe even stronger than anything he could persuade. These things… There was such little known about them. They were as intangible as the darkness in the night. And the mist… It was strange. The whole thing was almost too strange, really. Socrates had heard word that there had been mist spotted near the heart of the Stroikara Mountains, so they had set out to see if they could find anything there.

“Methinks the knaves are departed long since our arrival. If they be here, they hide themselves quite completely.” The little black undead cat was perched on the necromancer’s shoulders as he made his way up a steep and slippery incline. “This cat states its sorrow at such a lack of evidence, Mjollnir. If only this cat had obtained the coveted informa-” Mjollnir held up a hand and laughed.

“My dear little cat! The information you obtain is the only thing that we can go off of! If you get it any sooner than you already do, you will be receiving visions of the future! And though that would be good for our part-time job, I assure you, it would bring nothing but trouble.” Mjollnir paused at the top of one of the peaks and looked out over the mountains. It was still fairly early in the afternoon, so the sun blazed down upon the peaks, illuminating the crevices and the tips of the mountains like a beautiful painting.

“Ha-LO!”

The words echoed through the mountains. Whether they found evidence of shades or not, this had turned out to be a fulfilling trip.

[Ayvajin]

The morning had been a long one like many were when one travels the long road alone. Ayvajin had gotten use to traveling alone as of late. She had been a loner for the majority of her life, but the taste of companionship still lingered upon her lips. She had gotten use to the aspect of having a traveling partner, but she had not seen hers as of late. That was alright, though. The female necromancer continued on her wanderings for knowledge alone.

Why had she traveled clear out into the middle of the Stroikara Mountains? Ayvajin was on her way to Avalast once more. She had been searching the woods for the fleeting darkness that had caused so much hate out of the people around her. She had had a strong feeling tugging her in this direction. A strong feeling suggesting dark forces at work in the mountains and in the mountain cities.

A voice could be heard from not too far away. Someone else was in this part of the mountains, which was almost surprising to hear him or her so clearly. No, the voice was definitely male. Most travelers going through the woods kept their voices somewhat low. The mountains held many dangers like every other place in Yviex. Many walked with a gentle foot and a closed mouth unless they were of remarkable power. So, perhaps this stranger was of remarkable power.

Ayvajin paused in her walking to listen to the voice a bit more carefully. The ice blue jewels around her neck, around her wrists, and in her ears jingled as her movement came to a sudden halt. The female necromancer was dressed not too make too much noise. In her traveling, she had enough experience to know to travel light, and her clothing followed suit with that.

The weather had warmed to a rather comfortable temperature, and Ayvajin found nothing wrong with wearing a white top that virtually only covered her chest and a loose white skirt that fell to just above her knees. She wore white sandals that laced up to her knee, making her steps almost silent. She carried the essentials upon her being: sword on her back, canteen and a bit of money on her hip.

The necromancer continued to listen before taking a few more steps in the direction of the stranger. For a second, she debated whether or not to call out to him. Sensing whether the traveler was friend or foe was somewhat difficult with the distance between them.

“Hello?” Ayvajin called out.

[Mjollnir]

When the answer reached Mjollnir’s ears, it startled him so much that he lost his footing and began to slide down the decline. A loud shout erupted from his lips and his legs tangled up with his head as he rolled down the rocky slope. Landing at the bottom with a heavy thud a laugh trickled out of Mjollnir’s cracked lip, “Well, that was unexpected! Who would have thought that someone else was here!” A soft mew came from up above.

“Mjollnir, often ye forgets that others exist in this world. It is not such a strange occurrence that others should be hear, though an anomaly indeed that one should answer.” Socrates nimbly made his way down the path that Mjollnir had thundered down. Small rocks tumbled down to land on Mjollnir’s head as the small paws dislodged them. The man slowly sat up, wincing slightly when he irritated one of his many new bruises. Socrates deftly leaped from one of the many ledges and landed in Mjollnir’s lap.

“Too true, too true, Socrates! I do tend to forget that. Do you think I should respond? Well of course I should respond. What good would it do? For you? No! For me! Oh, well then… Perhaps it’s a master of medicine who could teach you the secrets of-” Socrates gently batted at Mjollnir’s nose, “Right!” He stood up, placing Socrates next to his now dirtied boots, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted once more, this time enunciated his words so that they may be heard much better, “My dear! You star-tled me! I fell down the cliff-fah! It was ra-thur un-pleh-zant! What is your name-ah?”

He smiled down at the cat who looked at him through confused eyes. “Methinks that message was rather lengthy.” Socrates then proceeded to clean his paw. Mjollnir pursed his lips and squinted his eyes in thought.

“Ouch!” A cut along his forehead sent pain to his brain as his forehead creased. That made thinking much more difficult. Instead, he licked some of the blood off his lip and sighed, “I think you’re right, Socrates. I’ll try again.” Once more he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, clear and intelligible, “I apol-lo-gize! That first intro-duck-shun was ra-thur leng-thee! Who are you? And where are you? Per-haps we can me-eat!”

Again he smiled down at the cat, certain of praise. The cat simply looked up at him with a tired gaze and returned to grooming. The little creature was so hard to please.

[Ayvajin]

Ayvajin’s ears had picked up the fall rather sharply. Yet, she paused and waited. She could hear the stranger talking once more. He was either mad, or he was with someone else. The necromancer assumed that he must have a companion, well, this is what she hoped. She had had many run-ins with the insane and had found that their company could be rather delightful. For today, however, her tired mind and body was not up for a twisted conversation over a topic that sprung from the mind of a madman.

The traveler now seemed to be addressing her, so she thought. His voice was louder as if now trying to answer her questioning hello. Instead of shouting back, Ayvajin took a more logically approach, and she made her way in the direction of the voice. She slipped around the trees and soon found the other traveler who had apparently fallen from one of the cliffs.

“I am sorry if I startled you,” Ayvajin quickly responded. “You seem to be hurt. I can heal up your injuries if you would like.”

The female necromancer sent a polite smile. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the cat that was with the traveler. Well, this must have been the companion he was talking to. So, this stranger wasn’t crazy; he just talked to cats.

[Mjollnir]

The woman’s voice coming from so close startled Mjollnir once again, but this time his footing was sound and the only movements he made were turning towards the disturbance and drawing his rapier. Seeing that it was a rather provocatively dressed woman his blade lowered, and once he realized this woman was the one that he had been shouting for, the rapier quickly returned to his belt and lay concealed beneath his purple overcoat, “Healing? Interesting! You know magick! Always a useful thing, magick. It can be used for so much, like-” An annoyed mew came from the undead creature at his feet, “Right. Ah… My name is Mjollnir! Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The cat at his feet lazily looked over at the woman, and his ears twitched, “Mjollnir, these may simply be the ramblings of a cat who has long outlived its time upon this world, but this cat sees great power stored within this maiden. Power much like thine own.”

Now a quick side note to clarify: Socrates speaks an altered version of the Language of the Dead. Because he is a cat and technically cannot speak, the Language of the Dead shouldn’t be within his abilities. However, Socrates was what one might consider a “witch’s cat” and contained within him a knack for knowledge. After dying, knowledge of the Language of the Dead was passed on to the little cat, enabling him to “speak” to Mjollnir. Technically, any necromancer or speaker of the Language of the Dead can understand that Socrates speaks their language, but very few can understand what Socrates is truly saying. The only two people in the world who can fully comprehend the cat are Mjollnir and the Ancient. Still, it’s very possible that a skilled necromancer could make out bits and pieces of what the cat may be saying. To the unskilled ear, however, Socrates simply sounds like a talkative cat.

“Power, you say, Socrates? Like mine?” For a second a fire burned within Mjollnir’s crimson eyes, a soul-searching gaze that ended as soon as it began. “Socrates seems to think that you are a necromancer, such as myself. Is this true? And if it is, what does it mean? Does she wish to be trained by me? Why would she want that? I don’t know-” Again, Socrates’ mew broke the string of Mjollnir’s thoughts, “Right. Excuse me… I often forget I am in the presence of others. I have traveled alone for so long… Even before meeting Socrates. I’m afraid I’ve gone completely mad, more or less.” He winked at the girl and sat down on a nearby rock, “I hope you don’t mind insanity too much. I’ve heard a touch of madness is good for the well-being of the soul.” He laughed and motioned towards another rock somewhat adjacent to his own, “Though these mountains belong to no one, I still offer you a seat upon the finest of stones over yonder.”

Though Mjollnir’s exterior was calm and relaxed, his mind was racing. There was no doubt in his mind that this woman was a necromancer, or something close to it. When Socrates gauged a person’s abilities, he was rarely wrong. If anything, Socrates under-guessed. What was a necromancer doing out here anyway? He assumed the excuse would be traveling… Though it was doubtful if an excuse would even be made. Having lived as long as he had lived, gauging a person’s personality wasn’t incredibaly difficult. Though… The older and wiser the other person, the more difficult it was. This woman was most certainly not a regular human. She looked wise. Anyone with an appearance such as her looking wise… Well that just screamed immortal or something close to it.

Had she come for the same reasons he and Socrates had forayed into the mountains? Or was she here for another reason? It was all so mysterious and vague… And the only way he was going to find out was either by politely asking or killing her and raising her soul from the dead. The latter was not only rude but was most definitely stupid, for lack of a better word. When necromancers fought, whether they were evenly matched or not, it was not a pretty sight, and neither side ended up any better than before.

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[Ayvajin]

So, perhaps he was mad. That was fine; Ayvajin had dealt with crazier characters. Compared to some, talking to oneself alone with one’s little dead cat was perfectly normal. In a necromancer’s mind’s eye, insanity was something that was just common. Many necromancers ended up with a few screws displaced from the turning machine that was their minds.

“I am Ayvajin, and yes, I am a necromancer as well,” she said with a slight laugh. She brushed her long braid back over her shoulder as she made her way forward toward Mjollnir. “Now, shh, and calm your mind. Let me heal what few wounds you have from your fall.”

The female necromancer was rather talented with her magick and her healing powers. She stood directly in front of the other necromancer, right hand just before his face. With a few quick flicks of the wrist and a soft healing light, what was marred upon Mjollnir’s body was gently healed. This was how her power usually worked: quick and affective. With a kind smile, Ayvajin sat down upon the rock beside the other necromancer.

“You should be more careful when standing on cliffs,” she advised him. “You can easily hurt yourself if you fall.” A laugh departed her lips that she was quick to hide. She needed a bit of amusement, and she had a feeling this Mjollnir would be able to amuse her and give her some entertainment. She needed just something to get her mind off of her long travels. “I am surprised your sweet cat did not scold you.”

[Mjollnir]

Mjollnir smiled after the healing “touch” slapped his face, “Thank you! Whenever I get cut or scraped, I often find myself forgetting they’re there and re-injuring myself!” He rubbed his chin, squinted, and then smiled, “You even fixed that annoying scar on my nose. Never liked that thing. It was the one time Socrates-” The cat’s mew stopped whatever Mjollnir was about to say and he laughed. Nodding his head as the woman continued to speak he responded with mirth.

“I learned that first hand! Tumbling down a hill is much more desirable than a rocky peak. That and my weak, old-man skin is so easily decimated.” A light and airy laugh left his lips as his eyes twinkled in the sunlight, “And make no mistake! The little stinker may not scold me, but he regards me with that horrendous apathetic gaze… Though his words may not convey it, the beast scolds all to often.” He grinned at the cat sunning itself on the rock. Socrates simply flicked his tail at him.

Mjollnir sighed, a content and happy sound, “So, Miss Ayvajin… What brings you to these mountains? I haven’t sensed any untimely or timely deaths. Deaths are strange things aren’t they? One dies… And we guide the soul to the Sanctuary… What is the Sanctuary really? Is it-” Mew. “Right. The mountains. What is it that brought you here?” His tone was pleasant and happy, though he allowed his eyes to show he really did wish to have the question answered.

“Couldst thou be any more straight forward, Mjollner?” Socrates flicked his tail and pawed at a spider, “If the maiden is here for any other reason than one that coincides with our own, then verily the maiden shall either lie or take offense.” Mjollner blinked and looked down at the cat.

“You think so, Socrates?” He tapped his lips and looked back at Ayvajin, “Of course… I don’t mean to cause… Can you understand my cat? I mean… Do you know what he’s saying? Because sometimes I think I’m just imagining it.” This time Socrates didn’t even bother to interrupt Mjollnir. There were moments where it wasn’t worth it.

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[Ayvajin]

Ayvajin simply listened to the other necromancer talk. He seemed to have quite a lot to say about random thoughts. His mind seemed to be all over the place and at times she had a bit of difficulty understanding where he was going with one phrase. Nonetheless, she would definitely try to answer whatever question he would throw her way, no matter how off subject it was.

“I can understand some of what he says to you,” the female necromancer responded, her icy blue eyes drifting over to the cat. “I have been speaking the Language of the Dead since I was a young girl. I also have a knack for learning new languages rather quickly. I can pick up some of the words that are more similar to the Language of the Dead. He is a rather polite cat, is he not?”

She sent a smile to the cat now. Ayvajin was indeed talented with deciphering words she did not know the meaning of. Even with animals, the necromancer could pick up on what someone was saying or what they were meaning. Of course, it probably helped that she had grown up speaking to ghouls and the like.

“Nothing to worry about, though. I understand your caution towards me. It is normal to be so careful around someone who you do not know. I could easily be out here to kill you, although that is not how I am at all. I am a rather gentle spirit. I simply come out here to the mountains off of an over powering feeling of darkness lurking here. I came here to find it and try to get some of my own questions answered.”

[Mjollnir]

So the woman had a knack for languages. Splendid! “Polite? Maybe. Sometimes I wonder if Socrates is even able to speak like a normal human- Well I suppose he’s not really human, so it stands to reason that he wouldn’t speak like one. What do you think, Socrates? Can you be impolite?” Mjollnir laughed as the cat simply mewed in response, “Perhaps he wishes to not speak, now that he knows you can understand.”

Socrates yawned and seemed to speak to the woman, “This cat finds it refreshing to speak to another who is neither thee nor the Ancient.” The cat stood up and stretched, “Maiden, this cat offers up its utmost respect and a feeling of kindred spirits. This cat is blessed with a talent for languages such as thine own, and it finds any other individual with the talent to be exhilarating.” The undead cat glanced back at Mjollnir, “And this cat does indeed posses the ability to speak in a less respectful manner, however it finds such words to be sullied with the tones of an imbecile, far below that of what should grace the ears of thee and thine own.” Mjollnir whistled at the cat’s comments and smiled towards Ayvajin.

“And! Since you were little? So you too, were a child adept? How intriguing! The Language of the Dead was all my mentor would speak to me. So it was either learn that or just go through life virtually deaf. Which I did for a long period of my life. My life… It’s long. Too long. I forget… Things? What did-” mew “Right. Sorry about that! It’s best not for me to reminisce all that much, so you’ll have to forgive me when Socrates keeps me from my nostalgia.”

As for her reason being here… His hunch had been right. “Ah. The shades and their haunting, then. I’m glad that that is why you’ve come! It would seem that fate has brought us together. Perhaps I’m acting hasty, but… Would you be opposed to joining us? We are seeking out these devils as well. They’re a nuisance. Almost as bad as the soulstealers during the war. Except that instead of taking souls… They seem to… Stimulate them. At least, that’s what Socrates and I have gath-” Mjollnir stopped himself. He looked quizzically at Socrates, slightly squinting his eyes and waiting for the cat to interrupt him.

“This cat finds no reason in neither soul nor mind as to why the maiden should not be trusted. Either continue, or allow this cat to continue for thee.” Mjollnir shrugged and responded with a hint of laughter, “Well, due to the fact that, though Ayvajin can understand you in partiality, I think it’s best that I continue with what we’ve learned and see if it matches with her own knowledge of the shades.” He smiled at the woman and continued, “As I was saying… It would appear that the souls of those closely linked to the hauntings burn far brighter than they should. It’s a problem… But I don’t know what it means. He shook his head, “And so far, we haven’t come across any shade or remnants of the like…

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[Ayvajin]

The other necromancer and his cat seemed to have plenty to say. This was a rather refreshing conversation. Ayvajin had grown use to talking to herself in her travels. To find someone who actually responded to what she said seemed so foreign. The female necromancer would definitely not complain. In fact, she could not help but cling to their words and be rather amused by how their voices complimented each other.

“I would be fine with joining the two of you until our paths must split,” Ayvajin said with a gentle smile. “I have been searching for why these fleeting dark mists have started to appear within our world since the time of their first sightings. I have traveled all over our world and have gotten no answers to my questions. Even the first of our kind is unable to give me a direct answer.”

Ayvajin paused as her eyes drifted over the surrounding woods. She had dealt with many dark spirits that possessed the souls of the innocent. These dark mists were somewhat like those spirits. They brought out the worst in people. They brought out anger and hatred into those who were of kind heart.

“I am sure there are those ‘shades’ around here. I can still feel their presences around the mountains. I can feel the darkness hovering just somewhere. The animals can feel it, too. I have not seen a fleeting hare or doe all day.” The female necromancer paused for a moment. “We could work together to try to solve this mystery. The true problem is that no one is banning together to try to fight these phantoms.”

[Mjollnir]

Mjollnir nodded and looked rather sober as he responded to what the female necromancer had said, “So you’ve asked Nyrivex as well…” He shook his head slowly, “You can sense the darkness… That is something I… Lack.” Mjollnir rubbed his right eyebrow and smiled sadly at Socrates, “My good friend, Socrates, can sense it though. He’s almost as much of a wizard as I am. Strange little beast…” He shook his head and the spell of solemnity seemed to be dispelled.

“And you’re completely right! If the people of Yviex would simply rise up in defiance of whatever these creatures are… Well, we wouldn’t have much work to do at all!” He gently slapped his hands together and dust rose from where the two gloves collided, “Then we’d-” Socrates finally appeared to wish to engage in the conversation. He gently placed a paw on Mjollnir’s head, having already climbed up on his shoulders sometime during one of Mjollnir’s speeches, and spoke.

“This cat fears that the case is not one so easily solved with the simple ‘rising of the rabble’, if ye allow. The people…” Socrates paused and batted at some of Mjollnir’s hair that was standing up the wrong way, “They’re frightened. These creatures of shadow… They prey upon the weak of heart…” His cool green eyes stared into the icy blue of the woman’s, “This cat feels that it shares the same concerns as thee. Beasts composed of hatred and fear are not so easily dealt with.”

Mjollnir was quiet for a time after Socrates had finished and began to clean the male necromancer’s hair. The sun was still high in the sky, and its warm, caressing rays hung about the three figures in a comforting hug. The rocks were warm from the sunshine, and the view was simply spectacular. But, just as the woman had said, there were no quiet noises. There were no gently chirps of birds, nor scrabbling of mice. The world was quiet. It was still… It was almost dead.

Mjollnir licked his lips before phrasing his next question, “It would seem we’ve tarried too long in this place. We’d best head towards the shades if we can.” He stood up and smiled at Ayvajin, offering her his hand, “If we’re lucky and can catch the things… Well, we’re going to need all the help we can get, I’d imagine.”

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[Ayvajin]

Ayvajin took Mjollnir’s hand with a slight nod as she stood up from the rock. Her icy blue eyes looked about once more as she thought. Socrates was right in a sense. It would take more than the people gathering together under one single cause. However, these fleeting dark mists had some sort of agenda. They preyed upon certain people for a particular reason. Whatever that reason was, the female necromancer hoped to find out.

“This place feels amiss. When nature hides itself there is something terribly wrong. It is best that we moved on from this particular place on the mountain. I was headed in the direction of Avalast if you would be interested in going toward the city. I was hoping to get to the city before night fall. The city is still quite a distance away, and I sense that we will run into or barely miss some of those dark mists.”

The female necromancer looked around for a moment. She was not too concerned with the phantoms. She, as strong as she was, felt no true threat from these beings at the moment. Her heart and mind were very resilient to outside persuasion. The shades would not corrupt her way of thinking.

“On the way, I can try to answer some of your… questions that you so often ramble off,” Ayvajin said with a kind smile to Mjollnir. “Perhaps I can give you some insight on the random things that come to your mind.”

[Mjollnir]

“Avalast! Wonderful!” Mjollnir clapped his hands together as the three figures began their trek towards the mountain city, “And no one ever lets me indulge in my questions! It’s truly a treat to have met you, Ayvajin!” He laughed and scratched behind his zombie cat’s ear, “See, Socrates? Now you’re not going to be my single and sole confidant!”

The cat snorted and replied, “Regardless, this cat is still thine caretaker.” He then happily settled down around Mjollnir’s shoulders and began to gently knead his shoulder. The stillness of the mountains was unnerving, but it was much more pleasant to travel through them with company. It was an odd pairing. An undead cat, and insane man in fine clothing, and a suggestively dressed woman walking down the treacherous and dangerous paths of the mountains and contently speaking of subjects that few ever fathomed to touch upon.

The entire time, Mjollnir and Socrates were far more concerned with the power of the shades than Ayvajin was. Though Mjollnir had been strong of will and heart when he was younger… The years had began to do wonders to his mind. Thus… It was questionable how safe he was against the strange powers of the shades. If they did indeed target the weak of heart, as Socrates had stated, then it was very possible that Mjollnir would succumb… Infact, it was absolutely certain that Mjollnir would be affected. The only variable was how.

Because he was so emotionally and mentally unstable already… It was almost as if he had been “cursed” by the shades. The only difference between him and those who had been “cursed” was the fact that his emotions, however erratic, were kept in balance with each other, where as the others showed increased anger and rage. Mjollnir was already full of that particular emotion at all times, so if it were to be increased, he would either go berserk, or stop functioning until the effects wore off… If they wore off at all.

Mjollnir had been speaking about the eclectic tendencies of grouse, and what they thought when falling out of the sky as they sometimes did. Though his words and tone were carefree and curious, his thoughts contained all the worries of the world. Socrates, too, was deep in thought. Because he was a cat, he was far less inclined to add anything to conversation, though he did occasionally interrupt Mjollnir to allow Ayvajin to respond before she became too lost in the ramblings of the madman.

The sun had begun to fall in the sky, and the shadows were growing longer and longer. Still, there were no sounds of the night life awakening, and the silence that pressed upon the ears of the travelers every time they paused for breath was eerie and unnatural. For creatures such as Mjollnir and Ayvajin, the darkness carried with it nothing but excitement and interest.

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[Ayvajin]

The time spent with the slightly insane necromancer and his undead cat had been rather enjoyable. Ayvajin had gotten the company that she had longed for. Friendship had been something the female necromancer had been lacking for quite a while. Now that she had someone to converse with, she was overjoyed, and her emotions kept being displayed by a smile across her lips.

As the day turned into dusk, her mind slowly shifted gears. It became obvious that they may not make it to Avalast before complete darkness. She loved the night and truly had no problem with camping out under the stars. She just wandered how the other two took the change of day to night. She assumed that Socrates was rather unmoved by the change. He was an undead cat; what did it matter if it was dark or light out? Perhaps the cat enjoyed the night much more like most cats tended to do.

“We may have to set up camp out here,” Ayvajin commented as they continued to journey through the woods. “Avalast is still a good ways away. Though I tend not to sleep, it is never a bad idea to sit back and regain energy that the day took away.”

The female necromancer flashed a smile before taking a few steps forward and pausing. She listened to their surroundings for a long moment. The lack of animal life was still bothering her, but at the moment she was not listening for creatures of the woods.

“There is a stream nearby. If you feel like camping, let me know.”

[Mjollnir]

Mjollnir smiled and nodded his agreement, “Camping by the stream is a splendid idea. Or a river. I remember camping by a river! Do you? I do. That time-” Socrates interrupted the man, and Mjollnir tapped his nose and grinned, “Right. Good idea.” It was true that, because immortal creatures never died of natural causes, they needed very little of what mortals did. Sleep became an option, as did food, but both were very important if one wished to remain strong and functioning at one’s best.

As they made their way towards the water, Mjollnir looked around at their surroundings. They’d entered the forest a while ago, and because of the night-time shadows it was getting very difficult to make out the trees from the empty space beneath the large, sweeping branches of the treetops. Here too, there was no sound of mice shuffling by. No small cracks of dried branch from the gentle tread of a deer or rabbit. It was unnerving. Mjollnir was becoming rather uncomfortable and allowed the silence to press in upon them, muffling their senses with its dark, heavy hands.

Socrates, being a cat, was completely at ease in the darkness. This darkness, however, was different. The little cat could sense the presence of evil nearby, but he couldn’t pinpoint it within a few miles. It was aggravating to the undead creature who was so accustomed to being able to find things with relative ease. The silence was broken by the cat’s serene voice, “The foreboding is becoming stronger… Thou senseth it, dost thou not, Maiden? This cat is fast becoming wary of this supernatural night…”

The three arrived near the water, and the trickling sound of the creek was like the sweet kisses of an angelic. Mjollnir breathed a subconscious sigh of relief and sat down. The darkness wasn’t a problem; it rarely was for any necromancer. It was the silence that had been getting to the male necromancer and his cat. He smiled slightly as he thought of Ayvajin. She must be regarding them with a sense of reproach, being afraid of the dark. She wasn’t stupid though, and she would never voice any negative opinions she had of them, as she seemed to be extremely proper and polite… Almost like Socrates. Mjollnir chuckled when he pictured Socrates walking around on his hind feet and healing random travelers.

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[Ayvajin]

“Tis a good idea to keep our senses up. There is evil here; evil stronger than in most places. The darkness and the silence remind me of the Underdark. It seems as though danger is right around the corner. Yet, we should not stay preoccupied with our worries. If evil comes to us, we shall gladly take care of it.”

Ayvajin made her way down to the stream. They had come upon a nice clearing where it would be rather easy to set up camp. The female necromancer’s eyes glanced around the area before setting to work on fixing up a fire. She found a nice spot to fix up a campfire and then moved about the area finding dried branches.

“I can start the fire,” she said to Mjollnir and Socrates as she worked. “If you would like, you could try your hand at fishing. I sense no deer or rabbits about, but fish have a tendency to be less afraid of what happens on land. Maybe you could catch us a nice supper.”

She smiled as she worked; icy blue eyes bright with enjoyment. She soon had fallen branches stacked up nicely ready to be set afire. Ayvajin was rather grateful for her magick. It made creating a campfire relatively easy. A few words from the Language of the Dead and there before her a fire sparked up.

Ayvajin stood up and stretched out her muscles. Her ears were still trying to pick up what noises she could. Still no wild life. No peaceful woodland creatures. No predators. The trees did not even creak. It was just the sound o the stream and the three travelers.

[Mjollnir]

Mjollnir laughed when she suggested that he and his cat try their hands at fishing, “You have no idea what you ask, Ayvajin!” When Socrates set about catching fish, he caught fish. The little beast was an expert fisherman, especially now that he was relatively immortal. The fear of water had long since left the undead cat, and he nimbly plunged into the water without so much as a twitch of his ears. Mjollnir smiled as watched him swim about in search of what was soon to be their dinner. It was nice to see the cat enjoying himself… After a few centuries it becomes difficult for animals to find excitement in life. Socrates had done a good job of retaining his cathood, though; much better than most.

As Ayvajin started the fire, Mjollnir spun about and smiled once more. It was rather depressing to watch others use magick that he could not. Still, it was very useful, and he wasn’t about to complain. He took a seat near the flames and softly spoke, “Take care of the evil… I rather hope it won’t have to come to that. I still cling to the idea that this issue can be sorted out through words and reasoning. Though I may be lacking in that department.” He chuckled and tapped the side of his head. Regaining his somewhat sober composure once more he continued, “Still, I have enough brains left to be able to twist other’s minds to my liking.” He winked and picked up a stick and started poking the fire.

It was his hope that the beings could be reasoned with. Every good necromancer knew that one should never take another’s life without first: a good reason and second: the victim’s understanding as to why they were going to die. In this case, it was very likely that the shades were either already dead or re-dead… But still. It was the principle of the matter, and though Mjollnir had killed many, many people in his time, never had he killed anyone without the two requirements the necromancer’s had set. He drew his stick out of the fire and made ruins in the air with the smoke. This night was almost pleasant… It just lacked life. Ayvajin had compared it to the Underdark… She had been completely right. Under normal conditions, the nighttime forest was almost comforting; tonight, it was disconcerting.

Socrates jumped out of the water and dropped a large fish near the fire, shaking the water off of his pelt, “Maiden, this cat is concerned. Even the fish hide themselves from this corrosive aura.” He shook his head, a curious gesture for a cat to make, “This cat fears that the evil is closer than it would like to hope. The safety of our campground is… dangerous at best.” He placed his paw on the fish, “This cat apologizes, but it did not want to unbalance the scales of nature. This fish is all that nature would allow this cat, given the circumstances.” He then picked up the fish, carried it some distance from the fire and began to gut it. Socrates truly was the master fisherman.

Mjollnir’s mouth curved into a crescent. Necromancer’s weren’t the only ones who had rules and limits upon killing. It would seem that cats had a rather complicated system as well. Whenever he tried to find anything out about it, Socrates would simply flick him with his tail and continue on whatever path they were taking. Mjollnir’s thoughts were interrupted by the crackling of the fire, “Socrates may be paranoid…” It wasn’t really a statement. It was much more an invitation for Ayvajin to share her own opinion on the safety of their makeshift campground.

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[Ayvajin]

The darkness, nay the quietness had never been this severe. Perhaps, it was not the strength of the evil about but the location. Ayvajin had seen the mists slip directly around people before. People seemed to only see the shades; they did not sense them. Animals always had good instincts to follow when danger was about. Most people seemed to have all but forgotten that they possess such abilities that animals do. Of course, towns and cities could be quite crowded, and one forgets what true evil (and true good) really feels like in such an environment.

“Socrates has good intuition,” Ayvajin remarked, looking away from the flames before her and over to Mjollnir. “Animals are more receptive to such forces, which is why the forest is so quiet. They can sense supernatural powers and beings better than most of us who walk on two legs. Animals, though they have minds like we do, tend to go off of instinct more than abstract thought.”

Ayvajin sat back on the ground, crossing her legs casually as she made herself comfortable. There was no true reason to sit up straight and feel discomfort. If there was evil upon them, it was best to get some relaxation. Not to mention, the thought of battle and of death did not frighten Ayvajin. She was a necromancer, of course. Silly thing for a necromancer to be afraid of death.

“Socrates is also of the dead. I have more trust in the thoughts of a dead cat then of a living person,” she stated. “The dead seem to be on target with figuring out where evil hides and if there is any true danger to worry about. Though, I have run into a few truly paranoid spirits. Not the best beings to get directions from to say the least.” Ayvajin gave Mjollnir a smile. “Let us not worry about these shades. If they decide to come out and confront us, then they shall and we cannot stop them either way. So, we shall cook our fish and find something to preoccupy our minds. Though, you seem to be very good with preoccupying your mind.”

[Mjollnir]

Mjollnir relaxed as Ayvajin did. She was right, of course. Preoccupying was his supreme gift. Still… He couldn’t help but wonder how the shades would affect him. He assumed it would happen quickly once the shades arrived. There would be a moment of clarity and then… What? Mjollnir wasn’t in the least bit sure. The only thing that was sure was the fact that it would affect him. He lazily looked over at Socrates and smiled.

The little cat came over towards the fire with the fish, nicely gutted, cleaned, and very ready for the flames to cook it to perfection. The cat set it neatly on the ground before stretching out near the fire. Due to his “condition”, Socrates was much closer to the fire than any normal living thing would be. The cat’s hair was almost burning he was so close, but the expression on the cat’s face was one of serene bliss.

Mjollnir reached down and stuck his stick through the fish, creating a nice fish skewer. He then firmly rooted the stick in the ground beside the fire and let the fish hang over the smoke and flames. There really was nothing better than “campfire fish”. He sighed a contented sigh and lay back and looked up at the partially obscured sky.

“So, Ayvajin! For the sake of keeping your own mind occupied, why don’t you tell me something about yourself.” Mjollnir chuckled, “Because, whether I remember it or not, I’m sure I’ve told you something interesting about me.” Some stars twinkled bright in the sky, catching Mjollnir’s gaze. Little glowing bugs floated around near the campground, creating the illusion of little bobbing stars.

Socrates stretched a rolled over to expose his belly to the fire and gave a contented grunt, “It would be a treat to hear something of thine past or present, Maiden. It is very rare that company ever travels with this humble pairing.”

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[Ayvajin]

This was unusual. People interested in Ayvajin’s past. The necromancer was taken back a bit by the suggestion. She usually never had her past questioned, nor did she get the chance to explain what had happened in her life.

Where could she even start? The female necromancer’s hand fiddled with her hair for a moment. She untied where her braid was held and started to loosen up her hair. Her icy eyes looked into the bright flames of the fire as she thought. Where to start? What to say?

“Well, I suppose, I should start with the beginning. All good stories start with a beginning,” Ayvajin said as she looked up at the two. Her fingers still worked to loosen her hair from its tight braid. “I am originally from the desert village of Secstial. I grew up with a family that grew to be my own, but I was not related to them by blood. They were my human family. I recently found my real father, but that is another story to be told.”

Ayvajin smiled as she reminisced about her childhood in Secstial. She had had a pleasant childhood. Her parents had been very caring and showered her with love. She hadn’t even minded working in the shop that her family had owned.

“I came upon necromancy when I was about six years of age. I had made a friend out of a ghoul hyena. The Language of the Dead came naturally to me as if my adopted parents had been teaching me it when I was a baby. Of course, they hadn’t since they were both humans. After my fourteenth birthday, my powers had drastically increased, and a necromancer by the name of Rion had discovered my talents.”

The female necromancer paused in her story as she remembered her teacher. Rion had been a great man. He had been rather old when he had found Ayvajin. His hair had been whiter than the snow, drifting down gracefully to his shoulders. His pale blue eyes had held such worldly understanding and such mystery. They were still rather vivid on her mind. He had dressed like such a gentleman and had been a scholar. Just the thought of Rion brought over a deep silence in Ayvajin that for a few long moments she could not continue with her story to Mjollnir and Socrates.

Ayvajin cleared her throat. “Anyways, this necromancer, Rion, became my teacher. He took me back to his home in Temarra and taught me how to use my powers. I stayed with him until after my two hundredth birthday.” It was bitter sweet to talk about her teacher, and yet again the female necromancer had to pause. The tragedy of the outcome of the teacher and the student of necromancy was a terrible one. Ayvajin had deeply loved Rion.

“After that year, I left Temarra in search of helping the dead, the undead, and the living. I became an exorcist within these years of traveling. Exorcisms seem to go hand and hand with our form of magick. So, I took on the task of reading people of dark spirits from their beings.”

Ayvajin rolled her neck and then her shoulders as she let her hair hang loosely over her right shoulder. “And we now come to the present. I still continue to travel and perform exorcisms. I continue to help people as much as I can. Which is why I have taken on going after the mists.”