"Would you accompany me to town? I know this place that makes an excellent lamb shank, served with a generous dollop of mint jelly. It's superb, if my opinion counts for anything. There really is no reason to starve on my account." Ashlotte made a small nod in agreement. "I suppose I am rather hungry. And you'll be glad to know that I am no longer crippled with anger." Kiruku's smile was but a thin cut across her face. "Well, we shall have a feast fit for royalty then!" Ashlotte's utterances prevented her from continuing further. "There is a whole world of sinners out there, they clog every street like degenerate vehicles of lost morality. What of the royal ones themselves? The Lords, Dukes, Govenors? They are some of the worst people gifted to exist."
Kiruku ushered her within the warmth of the bistro. "But exist they will until due time. Genocide would be an act of murder and I have not the power bestowed upon me to contend with the Goddess. I have heard of one once so powerful that she did contend with the mighty Atone. Remember what I say is only a collection of rumors I've been told on my journeys so I don't know how much truth they contain, how accurate they really are as opposed to real accounts to their historial origins. But their once lived a being powerful enough to survive the wrath of the Gods she defeated. This creature that was made into a Goddess by the pure, unadulterated evil was born a mere mortal. She was a vessel, an embodiment of Hell and all that dwells within it's sinister bowels. This creature that I speak of is named Rave-" The waitress looked Kiruku, momentarily stricken with horror.
Her body trembled so that if the name would have been uttered in its entirety that the limbs would fall away from her torso, and this would be the least of the serving wench's burdens. "Please.." She pleaded in little more than a whisper. "Please, don't speak that name. Ever. To speak it is to damn yourself and others." Kiruku's gaze drooped to the tabletop. "I..apologize. I did not mean to utter such an accursed name. I was just enlightening one ignorant to such an abomination." The server placed their food before them, and her hazel eyes danced with laughter. "This one is ignorant, you say? Blissfully ignorant, I would say. You'd do best to keep her that way." She wiped the condensation that made her hands slippery from touching their drinking glasses on her apron. It resembled a map, faded shapes of old stains that were too stubborn to be washed out had the appearance of a mass of undiscovered lands she had once seen in a book. The woman was garbed in peasant wear, although an expensive looking pendant was draped out her neck. The conclusion that it was a stolen trinket would fit if it wasn't a family heirloom. She didn't volunteer any information on it and the two famished females didn't ask. The lamb shanks were devoured and another round for the both was ordered. "Don't keep me in the dark about this.." Ashlotte's voice found its way around the large portion of meat that was stuffed between her lips.
"We'll have to talk elsewhere.. this sort of chatter wouldn't be welcomed any place others linger." She spoke as she drank, bubbling mead overflowing from the tankard and spilling down her chin. When they had their fill, Ashlotte gestured toward the stairs where the rented rooms were. Kiruku dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. "No, the walls have ears. We'll talk at your all -too humble abode."
Ravenwitch." Kiruku finished the name that was interupted when it was spoken back at the bistro. "Ravenwitch?" Ashlotte was puzzled. The Bard looked about suspiciuously, a fearful look was clearly evident about her. "By the Gods, its not wise to throw her name about frivilously! You are content with your little home aren't you? You don't want to summon something evil in its stead!" Even though there was no emotion to emphasize her words, they were spoken with the utmost importance. This struck a chord in her, and she vowed not to awaken the world to that name. "So, regale me then. Tell me the tale."
Ashlotte looked down into her tea cup, the stagnant beverage was but a drowning pool for the flies that were trapped inside. She traced an index finger about the rim, removing the dust which had settled upon it. "If you wish. She was born a mortal in a world of which to use magic meant that one would incur the steepest of costs. She came from evil seed, that one. Even when she was a child, she was evil of heart. She had gifts that were corrupted long before she realized she had them, they came from a tainted origin. The child Agatha would bring misfortune upon others with incantations that she weaved herself, having learned them from no master. She had extraordinary psychic gifts as well, but used them for ill intent and her own twisted pleasure. In later years she was betrothed to a Reverend, but he betrayed her and she was burned at the stake. Usually the story would end here, correct? But this was only the beginning, friend."The Bard rose as if to leave. Ashlotte counteracted her with a firm grasp on her wrist, as if she were trying to pull the ginger haired female back to her seat. "I have accomadations for you, if that's why you wish to leave."
Kiruku shook her arm free of Ashlotte's clutches. "Oh, well thank you. I'll think about returning after my tasks are finished. For now I must bid you farewell." She left through the front door, giving no proof to Ashlotte's theories to her turning into a smoke-like apparition and exiting with the aid of magicks. The glow of the lantern died as if it were extinguished by a sudeen gust of wind, making a shiver creep up the Empath's spine. She sat in the dark without so much as the companionship of undesired rodents gnawing at the walls. At that moment she would have given anything for the company of Rickie, his odd mannerisms and accent. She couldn't deny to herself that she had fallen in love with the child. She was but a shell of her former self, a creature that had been twisted and reformed to the likeness of the devestating heartbreak that afflicted her with its sorrow and suffering. It could easily be described as a disease, a malignant black stain that seemed to spread throughout her, slowly devouring her from the inside. Opening her wardrobe, she opted for more cleanly attire, clothing that wasn't perfumed of lavender and body odor.
She would have to purchase soap in which to launder her garments, but for now she tossed the soiled clothing to the floor and hastily changed into a dress very similar to the one that lay in a heap at her feet. Smoothing wrinkles with her hands had consumed some of her time, and then she abandoned the pitiful domicile in search of what the nightlife would bring. The tavern seemed filled to capacity with drunken patrons, and several brawls broke out before her very eyes. One of which she couldn't help but to find amusing. Two potbellied men began clobbering eachother with fists and lambshanks, the latter of which they couldn't release long enough to get the job done. The cause of the fight was told to her from ramblings of inebriated witnesses. They were arguing over eachother leering at wives whose existance was purely imaginary. The comical commotion induced laughter in most of the group, branching outward from a sober Ashlotte. The thickly brown bearded men halted mid swing, remains of meat falling free from the shank of the heftier one. "'Ow look what ye made me do..."
He waggled the shank at her, appearing to have trouble standing steadily upon his feet."Perfectly good food on the floor. Two silver for that, and I'll call it square." Ashlotte watched him, somewhat saddened by the situation. Although she couldn't summon an outwardly portrayal of emotion, years of habit had caused a frown to form upon her face. "I do not have any coin, Sir. I do apologize. Nor it's my fault. Others don't use their food as a bludgeon." The man with the face that resembled cracked leather attempted to rush at her, but his intoxicated state made him see double and he rushed at the illusion of her instead. "No matter, girly. I'll take it out on your hide. Your.... immaculate hide. He then lay alseep upon a plateful of waste, remains of what looked like the lamb shank special becoming entangled in his lengthy facial hair."Think I'll just slip out and go somewhere else." Ashlotte said to herself, but this caused a few other patrons that were in earshot to follow suit.
Ashlotte slipped into the tavern across town, her cloak somewhat dampened by rain fall. "Dun' know why I keep this place runnin.' Though it gets some visitors, I suppose." The Barkeep was extremely corpulent, his elephantine form towered over her like a grand pine as she ordered a steaming cup of peppermint tea. She thought her worries would dissolve away as she took a sip of it. No such luck, but she enjoyed the taste. It resembled the flavor of candy-like confections. She swiftly finished and was on her way. "I would tip you for the delicious tea if I could." The Barkeep glimpsed in her direction, a momentary distraction from drying tankards and plates. "Your satisfaction is a tip all its own, Miss. Be safe out there, storm's a comin' and it's said to be a real rusher." Ashlotte's weariness was quickly overcome by a sense of familiarity. She snapped to attention, her posture becoming painfully rigid. "Rusher? I have heard that description before....who was it that said that?"
She searched her mind for a moment, then found the answer she sought. "Oh, Rickie. The dear child." Her head hung as if she were defeated, although she couldn't bring herself to grieve for him because she was incapable of feeling the emotions needed to summon tears. "Warm beds upstairs, Miss." He nodded in that direction, seeing that Ashlotte failed to exit the tavern. "Dun' worry about the charge, it is better that you're safe instead of trying to find your way home in this storm."Ashlotte looked in his direction blankly. "Thank you for your concern, Sir. I'll take you up on the offer, for tonight."The Barkeep smiled, showing a single row of teeth in various stages of decay."I dun' know for sure, but this storm is blooms of the devil's roses upon thickets and briars."Ashlotte stopped at the stairs, turning toward him ith wide eyes. "Oh, my." "Yes, tis true, Miss. I just pray that some of the land be spared so that we may have a decent harvest this year." The golden brown hued female simply nodded, and retired upstairs. She awoke to the sunlight filtering through the rectangular slit of a window, with a massive yawn and rubbing of her pale brown eyes.
The overly bright rays seemed bothersome to her, and she gathered herself quickly to retreat to the shade of the tavern. She saw a few patrons scattered about, starting their mornings off with a few brews. Ashlotte dismissed the thought of joining them in drinking, and nodded to the Barkeep. "Good Morning, Sir." He replied with a jaggedy but toothy smile. "Morn' little lady. No use goin' out there, we're snowed in. These folks rented rooms last night, just as you did." His face looked awful as the muscles stretched so he could wink. His skin sagged here and there, a consequence of old age. The wrinkles which were sprawled upon his face generously by advancing years now resembled scars of war. In his decrepitude he appeared ghoulish compared to the other patrons."Ah, yes. My appearance. The Goddess of vanity only exists for youngsters. Not people my age, Miss." He spoke with a dry chuckle. Although there wasn't an emotion tied to it, physical factors colored her cheeks with a rosy hue. "I didn't know the gods were so fickle."He finished wiping the bar clean and eyed her, his gaze not wavering for an instant. "They are extremely fickle." Ashlotte moved closer, as to speak to him out of earshot of the others. "was Ravenwitch an extremely fickle goddess?" She questioned with a sly smile. The man gave her a stat when he suddenly slammed his palm upon the bartop. "You should know by now, that monicker ain't welcome here!" His scream came out rather high pitched and warbled. Then the door mysteriously broke off of its hinges, wood imploding into the tavern. It had been one of Ravenwitch's signature entrances, although the door had been solid enough to withstand most physical exertion it wasn't able to stand against her busts of telekinetic power.
His old bones creaked loudly as he swifly ducked behind the bar. His eyes were as large as moons and it appeared that he gashed his left palm on a piece of glass that was broken in the midst of his fright. "I dun' know if you're just stupid, girly, but I will speak that I saw your deviltries if I have to make up such a fanciful notion and have you burned at the stake if I have to!"Ashlotte's face showed a momentary bout of anger at the threat, but she couldn't take her eyes off the hole where the door had stood a few minutes before. If Rickie were still alive, he would've called it the work of a geist. He was blissfully innocent of Ravenwitch and her evils. But everyone that wasn't of childish stature was not. When the Barkeep decided it was safe, he rose and approached Ashlotte. "I'm sorry, but if I have to.." She nodded."It is I that is quite apologetic. I didn't think the name would conjure such power. Now that I've beheld such power, I will harken the warnings, and speak not her name again." A nervous smile briefly was shown to her, before hemoved toward the door to inspect the damage. "Good, because I really wouldn't want to see such a beautiful lady burnt to a crisp. It'd be a waste." Ashlott left, stepping over randomly strewn debris and saw a humble fane. A musical chorus could be heard from within its fragile walls. She thought if she were to so much as -touch- the doors to emit her entry, the result would similar to cracking an egg, and the holy structure would come tumbling down. Ashlotte chanced it anyway, gently pushing her way in with baited breath. "Miss, may I help you?" She was greeted by an angelic voice, she was aorned in white and gold clerical robes. "Oh, I'm sorry for the intrusion." It was obvious that she felt put on the spot, her awkward mannerisms were clear for all to see.
To Ashlotte's recollection, she had never entered a church. She felt under close examination by the clerics and Gods alike, which heightened her awareness to the point of paranoia. She trembled as if she were cloaked by a frigid breeze. "No need to be afraid, Miss. Fear cannot enter this church."The cleric spoke in soothing tones, moving about as if to embrace Ashlotte in a warm gesture. "Do you need to confess? Let us away to a spot as not to disturb the others praying. She felt herself being pulled away to the furthest pew from the altar, the words of the spookily but heavenly cants resounding throughout the tiny edifce."Gods touch the hearts of men, only your divine forgiveness will mend, empowered by thee, against the evils of this world they can contend. Cleanse the mind, the body the soul of the impurities of the vulgar, weak and licentious lot, allow all immoralities to be forgot, if divine favor is to be sought. Ashlotte thought of Rickie, silently praying that he had divine favor with the Gods. "Rickie.." She uttered his name with so much sorrow in her voice that the lifeless statues that depicted certain deities could have wept. "You've lost someone close to you, my child. Bring the boy here, and if it is in their will, the Gods shall make him stand with beating heart once again!" Ashlotte stared at the cleric dully. "Well, there's a bit of a problem, you see. He's been dead for a while, and the condition of his body... unless what you speak of is Necromancy."The cleric she had been convesring with let out such an audible gasp that the other women ceased praying and turned to look at them. "Perish the thought!"
She clutched her prayer beads close, the symbol of a deity Ashlotte didn't know was held fast to her breast. "Double my penence for allowing my mind to become muddled with that filth! For allowing my ears to carry such blasphemy into my body! I think you should leave, Miss, lest you incur the wrath of Andraste upon us all!" The cleric rose, busying herself with her prayer beads. Ashlotte called out to her, somewhat confused and mostly annoyed. "I thought you might be able to give me some answers I desperately need."
"I cannot turn away a seeking heart." The exquisitely robed woman sighed under her breath, yet again adding to her penence for her impatience. "Well, along my travels I have rested in many towns, big and small. The same thing I find in all..dead and dying. The soil is famined and blighted, what could be the cause of such suffering? Some believe it is the curse of one named Rave-" Ashlotte's hand clamped her mouth shut before she could utter even another syllable. "No!" The cleric looked about panickedly, an overwhelming terror seemed to cast its looming shadow upon the woman. Ashlotte's empathic gifts would nomally be able to siphon this fear, to bring it into herself. But she felt nothing but a tad bit of confusion, and apathy. Suddenly the statues began to crack as if they were impacted with a powerful smite, the basins of holy water began to bubble over with a thick, sangiunous liquid. Sacred icons of the church tumbled to the floor, breaking apart as if they were made of glass. The window panes gave way with almost no resistance, shards of glass blowing inward like razor sharp missles. The sisters fell one by one, flesh ripped from bone because of pieces of glass showering them like diamond flecks from the heavens. Most were impaled in some manner, larger shards acting as knives to penetrate their vital organs. Others weren't so lucky and were submitted toward a painful and lengthy death of life giving juices being slowly drained from their bodies. Ashlotte and the cleric which she sat by were unscathed, however stricken by terror and confusion.
"You've spoken the most blasphemous name in this hallowed place. You've not held your tongue against letting such abominations slip. Leave now, lest you be evil incarnate. I banish you and all the evil you bring, whether or not it if unbeknownst to you!"She then brandished her symbol, and Ashlotte moved toward the door. The cleric's prayer beads broke apart in her hands, scintillating colored stones bursting apart before they could finish falling to the floor. She gazed upon the useless charm and her voice rose to an ungodly high pitch as she screamed. "You've brought an atrocity upon this church! The wrathful hand of the Evil One down upon this church!" The cleric tore at her robes, having not the strength to rip the sturdy fabric to shreads. She then began to roll about the floor, soiling herself with blood and dust.
With a small sigh, Ashlotte closed the door behind her. She hurriedly moved in the opposite direction of the broken church, not wishing to linger there and raising the implications that she was criminally involved. She glimpsed at her soft, fair complexion in a window she passed. (Whenever that name is spoken, misfortune is never too far behind. Are people using this name to curse their enemies, throwing the name about as to win arguements and such petty things?) As she contemplated logic and reasoning, Kiruku happened to see her across the square and made her way through the crowd. "Everyone's in a stir." Her voice seemed unnerving in its harmonious splendor. Her friendly smile then drooped into a frown. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't utter -that- which is most vile. I've warned you, did you heed? I highly doubt it." Kiruku turned up her nose, and crossed her arms about her chest. "I am sorry." Ashlotte spoke as if she were scolded. "But I just wanted some answers as to why.."She turned away from her strange friend. "I've told you, did I not? Even to -think- that name would prove disasterous. It is like an earwig straight to the brain, if not worse. You survive for a few moments whilst the earwig is greedily chomping away at your mind and memories. Still, a horrible way to die though."
Ashlotte was disgusted at Kiruku's morbidity, at how she could easily speak about means of dying. "Well, I'm just giving you an example, anyway. Don't kill the messenger." Laughter bubbled up from her slender throat. "Hungry? I'll take you out for lunch and shopping." Ashlotte rose a hand in protest. Your clothing looks rather peasant like anyway." Ashlotte rose a hand in protest. "Iim afraid the ol' coin purpse is pretty light these days, contains nothing but moths. And even those are rather sparse." Her orange headed ally showed an insincere grin. "It's on my coin, friend." The female standing juxtapose to her shook her head. "Oh, but I'm not interested in you like that. Sorry that your advances are fruitless." Once again a cynical laughter spilled out from between her almost colorless lips. "I just wish to exhange pleasantries with a good friend, tasting delicacies and seeing what the tailors have to offer. I've never seen what sort of treasures there may be in those shoppes, but I hear they cost a pretty coin. I'll take what you said as a form of flattery, nothing more."
They reached the bistro when the sun was starting to set, casting the sky in rich purples and pinks. "Traveling by carriage is slow, but what would we have if noone had come up with the concept? Walking until our feet bled? Until we froze in the snow? Or the heat blazing down upon us? I don't think they invented breathable fabric yet."After engorging themselves on delectable vittles, their palates pleased on food and drink, they window shopped some. Ashlotte found a few dresses which caught her eye, Kiruku was rather displeased at the selection. After all, she was very particular about her clothing. One with her occupation would look rather ridiculous presenting herself to dying folk in ruffles and ribbons, garbed in colors that would inspire happiness and joy in one. She figured seeing such attire wouldn't really help one to face the inevitable. Ashlotte was draped in white dresses with ruffly skirts, ribbons of various shades of blues and purples. The shoppe contained dresses of the likeness Kiruku sought, but they were stuffed in the back corner, attracting cobwebs and dust. The elfish shoppekeep made her way to Kiruku. "Ah, yes. There really isin't much of a call for funereal wear that I've seen. Most wear fitting attire for such occasions that were passed down from generations prior." She spoke in a heavy Sylvan accent, but the Bard was capable of understanding the jist of it. Her silver hair docked at her waist, strands glistening like intricately made spider webs in the lantern light. "Who's funeral are you going to? The crier hasn't mentioned anyone's death lately."
