The Dead Forest (Increased Orc activity due to skirmish)

[Pocket Gal]

Oh god, that damn hunk of metal was heading towards her head, just as she had finally gotten on top. She didn't have much time to do anything before the hilt of the blade hit down onto her head. It was heavy and really hurt, but it didn't stop her from still trying to do something.

]=<

Her right hand still clung to his left wrist. Even if he had that right hand free, she was going to do one of his moves. She pushed his left wrist down to his left side and brought her right leg over to pin it there.

Her left hand, well, that was reaching for the inside of his right arm to grab at the inside of that wrist and attempt at bringing that towards the ground too.  

[Kraun]

>:{

Thats about all he did. Meanface.  

[Maximos]

Now in that bag is good amount of spending cash for the trip, as I said this village is out far out. Dont be shy with it.

Maximos couldnt have been more right. Damion had been on those road for a full days ride now. Every couple miles there was a rickety homemade sign pointing toward Потеряно. It was a village, Maximos assured him, existed. But the sun was beginning to fall and there wasnt even a fleck of civilization. Damion's gas tank was moving toward E.

Also, Sunstrike says your vehicle runs on petrol. So I've stocked you with enough to fuel most any trip anywhere.

Clacking of plastic was heard. Along with the parcel itself, Damion had been given two large saddle bags the size of basketballs bloated with Vaseline. Max was confident this would work. Somehow.

Damion's parcel was actually quite small. It was a box not much larger than a softball and made of black wood.

See? I can beat it with this sledgehammer all day long and the hammer will chip first. But put it in its owners hands and boom! Its suddenly opens completely. Odd request. I've never had anyone specify enchantments for the parcel packaging.

It was wooden, and it was sealed with just about every sort of runic and paper seal Maximos knew how to make. Of course this left the box looking absolutely ordinary, and glamored to a degree that would make a Fae child feel naked and exposed and cold.

And it was cold. Winter cold, and along with the chill came the distinct feeling that not all of the nipping wind belonged to the weather. Hopefully Damion had followed the advice he was given...

Bring a coat and warm clothes, you'll be near the mountains. You'll be looking for a man named Nikolai. And...be careful. Adventure and danger are part of our daily lives, I know that, but these individuals seemed...off. Too specific, too methodical. Watch out.

Literally because that barb wire fence at top motorcycle speeds could end a man, and with the sun an orange splatter on the mountainous horizon it was hard to recognize. Thankfully there were two torches beside a main gate from which hung a wooden plank which read in large gray/white letters "Потеряно". Not so thankfully however, Damion was not aiming toward them but the fence. Behind said fence was what appeared to be a small torchlit village. But he had to worry about arriving in one piece first.  

[Eternal Dirge]

Such a beautiful country, the hills and valleys creating a wonderful panorama for Damion to veiw upon. He'd never actually been this far out so it was rather nice. His clothes were already rather warm, riding a bike made one dress for cold occasion thanks to the damnable wind and rain and the jackasses who kicked dirt up everywhere. Bothersome jackasses. None the less, he had his first package stored safely on his back in a drawstring bag and everything he might need all set up.

The jacket he'd chosen wasn't allowed to whip about in the wind, the cold of this land forcing him to zip it up miles back, his blue jeans the only protection on his legs. Brown hair rippled in the constant wind, like rows of dark grass, and his green eyes were guarded with driving goggles. All in all he thought he looked quite dashing. Strapped back towards himself was an old longsword he'd picked up from somewhere, nothing special but a steel blade he could use if he didn't want to or couldn't use his powers or his new form.

In any case, he had been trying to pronounce the name of this fraggin' village since he'd first seen the signs, and as of yet had not succeeded. " ******** it, it's just 'Delivery' from here on out." Damion murmured aloud to himself, words stolen by the wind as he roared on towards the fence. A moment of pause for breathing, and he was focusing on getting past the fence. It had to be put up for a reason...right? No sense making a dynamic entry.

The bike, a massive beast of steel and iron, began to lean to the left, towards where Damion could see flickers of fire. He'd never make it in time, unless he did something special. Like....

Quote:

Advanced Earth shaping: Damion can also mold earth to a degree, such as create small trinkets from stone he finds. He can also create larger, but less elaborate structures of stone, no larger than an igloo though.

And maybe he would make a more epic entry than he wanted to, as the earth fought to bend to his will, rising from the ground in hard bumps to form a makeshift ramp. Would he make it?

" I can't fly..." Damion had just the time to mutter, as the front wheel left the ground, and then the back, his brakes activating as he soared through the air, thick tires tipping off the barbed wire as he slowly decended, hitting and sliding across the ground towards what looked like a domacile. s**t.  

[Maximos]

It was probably best if Damion's first moments in a new place were tossing rocks all over and making a big scene. Thankfully he didnt.

Granted he could have made a swirved rock ramp and adjusted his course with the terrain so that he passed through the torches and main gate...but the truth is, that even as Damion's huge motorcycle roared forward people reacted exactly as they might have if had simply walked up. That in and of itself should be a node of concern. People should notice.

Still, Damion was not approaching homes, despite how they appeared from the outside, he as approaching an early evening market. There were torch-lit fruit stands, and trinket shops, and everyone who was no paying attention to him was going about their business and or speaking in a language Damion had likely never heard before, seeing as he could not pronounce the village name. They said things like...

Это тихое даже, Anya.

And...

Да, курьер должен приезжать скоро.

Or even...

Превосходно, я верю что мы готовы начать.

It did matter, there were more pressing issues. Namely, that a mile ahead the town ended. Half way between there and here the wooden buildings switched from market to an expanse of houses. Somewhere in all of his was Nikolai, and Damion had no clues as to where.

Also, he hadnt eaten in over 8 hours. Also...with a very loud series of jingles and then some dry puffs like an old man coughing...Damion's vehicle was out of fuel.

Sadly Motorcycles do run on petrol. They did not however run on Petroleum Jelly, or Vaseline, which he had copious amounts of thanks to a one M.L. Dark. Without further adieu he came to a rolling stop in front of what, as luck would have it, appeared to be a restaurant. And it smelled good. Very very good.  

[Eternal Dirge]

Damion let out a long breath he hadn't been aware of holding, relaxing by degrees as his front tire came to a stop with the back ones, leaving his feet planted on the ground. " Phew....Close one." He reached up and lifted the goggles from infront of his eyes, putting them up on his forehead as he looked around. The babble of voices broke over him like a sudden wave, his bike had been drowning it out after all. To bad he didn't understand a word.

" Fraggin....." The islander swung off the massive metal construct, holding the handlebars as he led the bike around. The smell of food was rather intoxicating, and there he would set the bike's massive kickstand into place. " Thank you Maximos..." He said with a smile, opening up the gas bags to peak inside, " Wait....what the hell?" Smiles fade, but this one fled as Damion poured some of the jelly out onto the ground. " This....this is not gas....this is...I don't know."

Honestly, things could be going better. Least he had cash...now for just this language issue. And what better language than food! The growling of his stomach attested to his hunger, and drove him towards the lovely smell of warm food. The babble of the local language was somewhat annoying, so foreign to Damion's ears. He paused at the door to the foodening establishment, his eyes focused on a fat man seated behind one of the market stalls. There was nothing special about this man, beyond Damions sudden desire to kill and eat him. " Fat Guys taste like cheeto's, go inside"

What? Damion's feet were already carrying him inside though, cutting off further thought through sights, smells, and voices other than his own.  

[Maximos]

As opposed to outside, the moment Damion breached the cowboy style swinging doors, every eye was on him.

Everyone looked at him, their looks were not unkind, just cold and distant. As if Damion was miles away from them. It was as if they all shared a secret, or lies, and unless you did too, you were a permanent stranger. Or perhaps you were stranger still once you did. This place was off. It set off every primal instinct known to the animal kingdom, even as it smelled and looked completely normal. What was worse, was that the creature inside of Damion knew even less about this phenomenon then Damion himself. Its simply unsettling when a being of secrets has one kept from it.

Before Damion were tables, about two dozen, all had four chairs to them, and almost all were filled. There was a bar, which also seemed to serve as a location to order your food. Everyone had food, some grayish muck which smelled as delicious, as it looked atrocious. And after it seemed they had received their eye fulls, everyone went back to talking or stirring around their slop.  

[Eternal Dirge]

Good thing he didn't have guns else he might have made one of the biggest mistakes possible and pulled them. That look was creepy no matter what instincts you were talking about, and it took alot of Damions willpower not to turn and leave right then and there. Something made him stay though, wether it be his insatiable hunger or the sudden craving to know this new secret presented to him. " Watch your back kid...." There was that voice again, but it's advice was fairly sound.

" Right." Soft, under his breath, and followed by a smile that made a sunny day seem like a rainy one, Damion walked forward towards the bar. His green eyes roamed the tables, trying to determine what kind of slop these people were eating and pondering if he shouldn't just try to track something down himself. Might taste better. His musings were ended rather swiftly as he made it to that bar area previously mentioned, placing one hand against it and trying to flag the....whatever they were calleds down with the other. Could it rightly be called a bartender?

Damion took a sniff of the air closest to the bar, trying to determine if that tasty smell had been this greyish slop everyone else was eating or if it was something else.  

[Maximos]

It was right about then, in the crux of the moment in which Damion was considering playing the role of a hunter that a realization would dawn on both him and his guest...

This was the country. It was away from any major industrialization or civilization, infact on the way in Damion wouldnt even notice a chopped tree or misplaced forest. As if the entirety of the village fit inside of a deadened meadow. And in a meadow, and in the country, during the day or night their is wildlife. So why then was it, that with the moon high and bright in the sky, and on this calm and casual eve...not a single creature could be heard? No owls hooted. No coyotes called out. Not crickets played in the tall grass.

Beyond the people currently in the room, and outside speaking their funny talk, there was no natural ambiance sound save the wind.

About the time the full gravity of that dawned on him, Damion might notice a large man coming to sit beside him. The man had stark red hair and was built like a bull wished it was. The man waved at the barkeep, and he lumbered over, at which point the red haired man said.

Мой супруга хотел был бы знать если наш заказ готов.

The barkeep nodded. He vanished into the kitchen, and then appeared back later with a large back which smelled strongly of a harty, meaty food stuffs. Then he said.

Насладитесь, мой друг.

The large man grabbed the bag and walked off. It seemed only in the wake of his massive presence vanishing, that the bartender noticed Damion. He gave the earth elemental a deep long stare, something far behind your normal sizing up and said.

Да?

Whatever it was, it was a question.  

[Eternal Dirge]

He perked up at the sudden question, smiling brightly once again," um....food?" He asked slowly, suddenly realising he didn't have the word for it in their language. This was going to be interesting. However....His eyes roamed the walls, noting the wooden walls and the overall rough appearance of the furnishings. This was the landbound equivalent to his island home....and if such were the case where the hell were the animals? " On second thought.....what that man had?" Damion finished as he redirected his attention back to the Barkeep, pointing after the large man then pointing at himself.

He very much wanted to get the ******** out of there, but he had a job to do. Good thing it didn't involve these jackoffs, not if he could help it. He'd get his food and leave, that's all it took. Right?

" What are they hiding?" Well Damion couldn't answer that, but it was a nagging concern. He'd seen a horror movie while he was still in Heaven or Hell, and the villagers of that movie had behaved similarly. He was not about to become a number.  

[Maximos]

" um....food?" He asked slowly, suddenly realising he didn't have the word for it in their language. It showed, because as Damion spoke in his alien tongue, the bartender looked at him as if he had just grown a third eye and a second head, and maybe some antennae.

The bartender, was a simple man. He wore a flannel shirt, the sort you would expect to see on a lumberjack, and jeans. He was balding and somewhat large, or at the very least somewhat wide. What percentage of this was muscle and what was fat was very hard to tell. The name "Ivan" was written in common print on the breast of his shirt.

After what seemed like too much deliberation, he gave Damion a nod his eyes rose up from the earth elemental to someone or something behind Damion, and rest there for a moment. He smirked. Then he turned away.

Damion might also wonder, perhaps even over the missing animals, exactly how open a term "Food" is. It had all the trappings of asking a man for a "beast spirit". It was clear Damion wanted out, and yet it also seemed the room might share the same opinion about him.

"On second thought.....what that man had?" Damion finished as he redirected his attention back to the Barkeep, pointing after the large man then pointing at himself.

Ivan stopped. He turned back around. His eye squinted, and big burly arms folded over his chest as he said.

You vant I should give you our cooks old aprons vor your vife to clean?

For the first time since he arrived, the bartender smirked and began to laugh. It was a deep bellowing laugh from large powerful lungs. He craned his head over his shoulder and shouted back behind him.

'Ey Vlad! Этот малыш хочет очистить ваши одежды!

An even large laugh came from behind the small slit which fed dishes from the kitchen. Something moved back behind the wall. It was large. It was human colored and yet it was hidden, but the shadow it cast on the wall in Damion's view seemed wholly unnatural. It was misproportionate, and seemed to sport one or two limbs too many.

Мои одежды чисты! Пошлите его назад здесь, I' ll делает их пакостным с им. После этого служите оно назад к вам!

The cook responded, his voice was raspy and low, like a man who's smoked all his life. Ivan shook his head as his shoulder rocked with laughter then looked at Damion and said.

You vere bayter off vith food, stranger.  

[Eternal Dirge]

Laughter. Damion could take many things, but laughter he just could not abide, especially when it was directed at him. His face clearly showed the strain of control, his right hand resting on the bar clawing up slightly, blunt fingertips dragging across the counter." Look....I just want something to eat, ok?" His voice was slow and low, all his effort given to not yelling at the cook. It was a remarkable display for Damion, who normally would have just hauled off and decked the man, regardless of his size.

But that cook sent Damion's danger senses skyrocketing, " Now." His emotions were on a hair trigger, his hunger a swirling serpent inside of his stomach, threatening to burst out at any moment. Well, not really, but still. " Or is my currency no good here?" His left hand rose above the viewline to set out a silver coin on the counter. His irritation was palpable, and unlike the demonic fire from which his new occupant had come, It was a cold feeling, like being dragged into the deep waters of the ocean.

He would wait for a response, but kept his mind aware of his surroundings and one foot on the ground. There was an evil here, but then again, within him Thar Be Serpents.  

[Maximos]

Damion was a beast. A wild and untamed thing. To threaten, to jest, to poke at him was a danger. But this bartender did it, and as Damion's face contorted, as his hand formed into a claw, as his temper rose, and then rose again...

" Look....I just want something to eat, ok?"

...Well, just about nothing changed. If Damion's anger was a fierce hurricane, this man was an unmoved mountain. If his temper was the weight of the ocean, then Ivan was a blue whale swimming beneath its waves unhindered. The stuff just washed right off. Sure enough Damion had the power to make a mess here, he had the strength, he had the will. But it was as if there was something Ivan the barkeep knew, something Vlad the Cook knew, something everyone knew that rendered it all impotent. A secret.

"Now."

The burning hot ember that was the earth elemental's temper, was currently burning in a sub zero freezer, where its fire was becoming more and more out of place, and less and less effective. If anything, it made Maximos' warning about the strangeness of these people even more poignant. Ivan shrugged his meaty shoulders. He made no pretenses about rudeness or manners.

"Or is my currency no good here?"

Gold es gold.

He leaned back just as before, his head craning over his shoulder and shouted back, nearly neckless.

Vlad! Сварите этого мальчика что-то прежде чем он ушибает.

There was a pause and a bellowing combination of laughter and talk back from cook.

Я передам ему Niko' экстренныйый выпуск s.

Ivan, chuckling, turned to Damion and said.

Iz on vay.

The question being, if Damion still remembered his delivery. His target. And the reason he was still here, enough to catch the clues.  

[Eternal Dirge]

" I am also looking for a man named Nikolai, I beleive he may live in this village. Is there such a man here?" Damion asked before the bartender could get very far from him. He hadn't forgotten, just certain priorities came first after all. And since this gruff individual was the only one he'd talked to, and the only one he'd found who spoke his language, he might as well ask this jackass. It was something to do while waiting for food anyways.

His right hand still rested on the counter, while his left slipped down into his money pouch, pulling a copper from the pouch and rotating over his knuckles slowly. He had an idea of what these people may be hiding, that cook had set off many thoughts, and he knew it was nothing like what he had become. Irradicating this place might be worth it after the delivery....that is, if he could pull it off.

]" Cocky little guy aren't you? Going to do it all by yourself?"  

[Maximos]

Ivan stopped.

Not the sort of slow casual stop in which a person brakes and comes to a pause at the red light. This was the sort of stop where you slam the pause button on the dvd remote controller and everything just locks up. Damion would be able to see Ivan freeze, but while he did, he would be unable to see that the rest of the restaurant seemed to have paused in exactly the same manner.

Then all at once it began to move again. Ivan was, previous to Damion stating the magic word, turning away and now he was turning back. Now, as gruff and jerkish as he was the mans tone also seemed to hide a hint of expectation. In a very miniscule way, it was as if X-mas had finally come. Damion was a tree bearing gifts. He said.

So you are ze cerrier.

His eyes seemed to be darting idly around Damion, searching for the package in question. Regardless of whether or not he found it, those same eyes can back to Damion's face and simply said.

Eat first. Iz good. Make you strong.

And began to walk away again.

Now this is where the real magic came in. There are people in the world that can make pigs fly, that can make iron to gold, that can make the dead rise. There are people who can perform all sorts of amazing magic, most with a purpose. Be that purpose to amaze, to save, or even to destroy. But, at first glance there seemed absolutely no point in creating a singing jacket. What possible good would a jacket which made unnecessary noise do? And yet, Damion was sporting one such jacket. As Ivan turned away, Damion's pocket began to piercingly blare a loud a tone. It had none of the harmonic instruments it should have, instead it was synthesized and electronic. It was a series of well placed beeps and tones, coming from inside Damion's jacket.

If Damion reached inside his pocket, he would find a small modern day cell phone. It was jet black, and slim and sleek, yet sported a few arcane symbols that seemed superfluous to the original design. It was a flip phone and it was closed, and inside the flip was a small index card. The part of the card which poked out of the phone read in clear black ink. "Damion". And had an arrow pointing up. The universal signal for an individual pull the card out of the ringing phone.

If Damion did that, he would find more text which very simply read, in very neat hand writing.

Flip it open.
Place the part with numbers near your mouth, and the opposite part near your ear.
Say Hello.

Now to the casual observer this may seem an odd set of instructions, but in truth Maximos needed similar instructions in operating a cell phone and simply could not be sure how technologically savvy Damion was. Either way, the phone was ringing, and little view screen on its face said M.L.D. Calling...

The question, the mystery, and the magic here was how. Because Maximos had made no mention of a phone, or calls, and had not openly handed Damion anything of the sort. And yet...? It was enough to make one wonder how much of the top hated mans title Magician Lucillien Dark, was a cover exactly.