Neverwinter Forest What the feck

Ganon was lost in his thoughts. Memories and past thoughts were constantly flooding his mind, and clouding his consciousness. He often found himself lazing in the morning, unable to lift his head, not from any physical force, but sheer lack of energy. He hated this. He had no idea what was going on with him. This blackness seemed to grow as he journeyed away from Blackfeather Woods, meeting Cassiopeia.

He was uncertain about the truth, about his future. Miraak and Cicero were dead. Potema was gone. What remained of his family warred with each other, scrabbling over their homeland. And Vaati might be dead.

Why the hell did he leave?

Why the fuck did he leave? 

He knew what they were all thinking about him. Coward. Traitor. 

It was midday by the time he managed to bring himself to move. His heart pounded faster the closer that he got to the sea, to seeing the truth about Vaati, and the darkness seemed to grow.

Goddammit. He growled as he stretched, feeling his stiff muscles ache as he moved.

unlike ganondorf, astara regretted nothing. she had left blackfeather behind, for it was home to her no longer. she missed her sibling dearly, but relmyna had not died early for her children to be dependent -- astara's upbringings had been fraught with peril, and she was far more capable than many her age when it came to the bare bones of survival.

her travels took her wherever the prey went. some nights she sat with her mother's seeing stone cradled in her paws, concentrating deeply -- she liked to believe the power the stone harvested would eventually let her commune with @Averna, but other nights she was too tired to concentrate, and slept soundly.

for a vagrant, she was doing fine -- up until she came across the scent of ganondorf. they were far from where they had originally met, so she followed his trail inquisitively. as independent as the yearling believed herself to be, she was still a wolf bound by her subspecies' need for company. with the stone pressed to her cheeks, astara followed ganondorf like a distant shadow, her indigo eyes following every move with keenness unusual for a wolf so young.

Ganon stood up slowly, wrestling with himself for control over his actions. He had not yet noticed Astara following him — he was too focused on dispelling the curse that had latched onto his psyche. He had not found any stone to concentrate his energies onto, so he casted weak spells almost daily in order to free his mind. Of all of the things that his mother had taught him, magic was the only thing he truly clung on to. It was the only thing that he knew worked — if the Gods existed, they were fickle and uncaring, unworthy of his worship.

But it required energy. Focus. Concentration. There was only so much a single being could do — that's why he needed a stone, something to channel his energy. In the Woods the magic was so strong it required little to no effort, elsewhere he felt it weaken, but he never felt this helpless. This curse, or whatever it was, was strong. It oppressed him constantly. 

He bowed his head and began to murmur the words, the phrases coming second nature after days of repeating and repeating.

either astara had become a master sneak since she left blackfeather, or ganondorf was a particular brand of unobservant. she had been following ganondorf for some time now, trailing his moves like an elusive shadow -- truthfully, she had expected to be discovered by now.

yet, she hadn't. astara flicked a long ear forward, her shrewd eyes resting on ganondorf's form ahead. he appeared bent in concentration -- she could hear the faintest murmur of an incantation encircling him. this was not the homecoming she expected (could it be called that? she had met him once, and now she had plans to harass him).

astara darted ahead, furtive with light steps. she spun around as she overcame him, dropping the stone with a loud clatter right before his (she assumed) obviously not-opened eyes. it was an action made to prove a point ('helllo?!? do you even have ears??'), more than a gesture -- she did not know he needed the stone, and would not have offered it up even if she had known.

Ganon was forcing himself deep into thought, concentrating as best as he could in order to escape the dark tendrils for today. He was not yet finished with the incantation when it was broken. He jolted, his body stiffening, tense — memories of the Melonii who had ambushed him in Phantom Hollow. He would not be caught off guard again. What? He snapped. He blinked down at the young woman — that familiar ghost from the Woods. What the hell? He didn't let his guard down — startled by the aperition that he had assumed was a spirit, bound to the Woods. It seemed not. Why are you here? He looked down at the stone that had clattered at her feet, his eyes widening.

the stone was not forgotten, but astara's attention favored ganondorf. understandably, his guard was still up. she had, after all, appeared out of nowhere.

pleased with the reaction she had garnered from the male, astara primly sat on her haunches before him and stared in the manner of a hungry cat before her food bowl. nothing was said, and no other motion was offered -- though if ganondorf was clever, he might detect the disingenuous spark of devilish amusement behind her indigo gaze.

@Astara HI sorry life kind of sucked for a bit there.

He didn't like the look in her eyes, the impishness glinting like light in the ameythests. He glared at her, really unsure if she was a spirit or not; if she were, he doubted her benevolence. He chose to ignore them, looking down at the stone that lay at her feet. It wasn't hard to do. The stone was entrancing, thrumming almost audibly with energy. Is that yours? He asked, moving his head down to poke at the mineral.

no apologies necessary :) hope everything is alright!

the girl’s gaze rested expectantly on her fiery company, sliding only to the stone as ganondorf mentioned it. a slight fracture appeared in the imp’s composure, her melonii gaze assuming a hardened aspect. she said nothing, as she was wont to do — but she placed a paw possessively on the stone’s edge, withdrawing her paw only as ganondorf reached to touch the simmering stone.

His eyes were locked on the pulsating form of the stone, only noticing the spirit's reaction when her paw slipped onto the rock, blocking his view. He looked up for the first time, blinking up at her. You know magic then? He assumed so, given how possessive she was. Or perhaps she was just fond of this stone. I suppose you worship the Daedra, then. He nosed the stone, feeling its warmth. Look, I know magic and I've been looking for something like this for a while. Would you let me use it for a healing ritual?

she was loathe to give up the stone, but the fact it was ganondorf -- a wolf that astara somehow instinctively knew belonged to the forest same as she -- eased her reluctance to hand the artifact over. all the same, as she lifted her paw she heard the furious susurrus of the stone; glancing over its smoothed features, the dark child fancied she saw a shift in its voidless, smoky surface.

she did not know magic in the sense she was a master of it, but in some ways, astara was a student of it. she did not practice spells, she did not cast curses -- but in her blood magicka pulsed, same as it did in the stone. she walked most of life tethered to this realm, but much like her sister, a part of her was innately indoctrinated with the spirit world, and knew things walked on this earth that were not of it.

With the stone in full view now, Ganon sighed in relief. It was a hunk of quartz, the Witch's Mirror. Though Ganon was not in tune with his family's Gods, a shiver ran through the Void. History repeated itself then, playing with Relmyna's daughter and Potema's son. Whatever sensations Ganon might have felt, he chocked down to the breeze.

He took the stone, moving slowly. The stone was too perfect, he thought. He wanted it for himself. He was a warlock (in name only, he wasn't that accomplished in magic, but definitely better than most of the wolves around here. and he at least had the time to learn). Doesn't he deserve something like this instead of this mute? Ganon furrowed his brow and pressed his nose to the stone, murmuring a spell to himself.

Idañe dōron, iksan isse rōvēgrie jorrāelagon hen aōha dohaeragon. Iksan doru iemnȳ, hae ñuha mundari grips rȳ ñuha olvie prūmia. Nyke epagon bona ao aid nyke, dohaeragon nyke isse giēñagon nykēla hen bisa. Kostilus dohaeragon nyke naejot sagon kostōba se qopsa iemnȳ, dohaeragon nyke isse issare biare arlī. 

He repeated the words again and again, feeling the energy from his body concentrating in the seeing stone his body was connected to. He paid little mind to the young woman near him, trusting enough that she would not disturb him.

all at once, astara felt transported back to blackfeather times, when she had been a whelp alongside her mother, watching relmyna commune with gods in some far off void. a pang rent her heart as she was pulled from reality into a fit of nostalgia, for she knew she would never again witness the slim form of her mother bent over stone.

the male's incantations were another language to astara, who listened with bent ear but little else. electing to sit vigil while he chanted, astara watched him with interest, yet had no inkling then that ganondorf had his own wishes to secure the stone..

After repetition after repetition he could feel the weight on his brain diminish bit by bit, until he felt lighter for the first time in days. Ganon sighed and raised his head and basked in the relief of it all.

But it would not be enough. It was still there of course. Something as powerful as that darkness could not be kept away after one ritual — or really, just one chant. That stone had been the only reason why there was any relief at all rather than a mild dulling of the pain and regret. No, this would not be enough. The decision had been made for him long before he performed the ritual of course; his interest in the stone was on first sight. And now he would go all the way.

Ganon grabbed the stone in his mouth and fled as quickly as he could, determined to out run the specter and her wrath.

astara felt something, perhaps jealous protection, as she watched the man bend over her stone. he spoke in a tongue she neither knew nor comprehended; it mattered little, for all tongues were foreign to the wraith save the void.

almost too serenely, astara watched as the male shifted. she did not predict he would bolt then, a fleeing flame with her stone in tow. her eyes, previously half-lidded (almost as if disinterested in his ritual) flew open wide; the deep melonii indigo of her gaze rent wide as sauron's eye in aubergine fury.

had she grasp of the tongue she would have screamed what the fuck -- but astara had grasp on only one thing, and that thing was violence. with a furious roar she rose hot on his heels, hellbent as a harpy. he would taste teeth and nothing but teeth for his crime against her; the stone was the last of her possessions that linked her to her dead mother and her estranged sister. it simply meant too much to be lost.

with the seeping strength of a soul desperate, astara lunged for hock -- anything at all to fell the bastard that dared steal the only token in astara's life that meant anything to her.

Being a large, muscular wolf and doing a very quick, very sudden turn, he did not make a quick and graceful escape. But he was desperate and fled as quickly as he could, bolstered by the rage he heard behind him.

Ganon believed that he was more deserving of the stone than the strange wraith. More capable of using its powers. Even if he did know the emotional and even spiritual connection that Astara had to it, he would have made that same conclusion. As a warlock, as the son of Potema, grandson of Meldresi (he was unaware of the fact that the angry spirit behind him had a similar kinship), he needed such a vessel.

Didn't he?

Despite the ritual he just performed, the dark tendrils reached back out into his mind, seeping black whispers into his mind. thief thief traitor coward coward COWARD. 

He kept running, but he was unsure if he was running from the spirit behind him or the ones in his head.

a hellish roar sounded from the black wraith as her teeth clicked emptily, ganondorf eluded her fury by simple virtue of having a head start. the shade slowed as the distance put between them lengthened; even in her blind fury she could see she had little hope of overtaking him. 

a dull wrath overtook the wraith, who watched ganondorf’s form disappear with fury in her aubergine gaze. he had stolen her stone — her one connection to her family — he would pay. 

he left a trail easy enough for the intrepid tracker to follow. after a moment’s pause where she collected her wits and pushed away the rising sorrow in her throat, the little jackal rubbed her paws deep into the earth, ripping soil and grass from its hold like a pawing bull. no doubt @Merrick would detect this strange pattern on the earth, and know astara was now on a new errand. once astara’s markings were completely, she stalked after the tracks left in ganondorf’s wake. 

ganondorf would have to sleep sometime.. and when he did, astara would be there to ensure he did not wake.

The shriek that Astara let out was the first thing that he had ever heard from her, and it was terrifying. It bolstered his movements, forcing him to move faster and faster away from the angry spirit. This was a mistake a mistake a mistake

Ok, he didn't really know what else he could have expected from stealing from someone else right in front of their eyes. But he was desperate. He needed it. He needed this more than her — that's why he stole from her. Though, the desperation that she had for the object would be based on how much she chased after him (and based on other threads, it was a lot more than he thought).

He kept running, determined to get far from her right now and hopefully forever.

he was well out of reach. second by second, astara gradually came to terms with the fact she would not catch up to him today. resentful and cursing his existence, the wraith silently picked up after him.

she had no idea if merrick would ever come across her scrapes in the grass, nor what he would think of them -- but truthfully, merrick was the last thing on her mind as she furiously marched after ganondorf, swearing to every soul and daedra in the void that vengeance would be hers.