92nd Day of Zi’da, 717th Arc.
Etzos
The chilling cold of Zi’da had settled over the of Etzos by the time Neronin finally ventured back into the city proper. He moved in the shadows, carefully avoiding any patrolling watchmen. He was bedraggled and tired from long months flitting from forest to farm house and back, not to mention the trials he had spent being abused and manipulated by Vuda. It was cold and the deep darkness bit at more than his physical form. He knew who was hunting him now. It wasn’t Vuda, or the Coven. It was the same damn mage who had tormented him since childhood. Gavrel. His old master had once again returned to the city that Neronin had so succinctly robbed him of.
Neronin walked slowly along the uneven cobbles up the all too familiar street. He had been this way before, more than once. He wasn’t sure if this was the best idea, but he couldn’t bring the hunt back to the cave. If Gavrel found out where Noth lived he could destroy all they had created together and then Neronin would not have any allies. But the forlorn necromancer had another ally, possibly more suited to hunt mages than anyone he knew. Zipper.
He knew his childhood flame lived up here, though he had no idea if she was home. Zipper was always an elusive sort of girl, which was part of their initial bond. He found himself hoping, not for the first time, that he would see her again, albeit for different reasons now. That was the way of growing up on the streets, everything turned darker and ruined the once naive simplicity of friendships.
Neronin moved further into the recesses of a nearby alcove as a pair of tired and unobservant guardsmen ambled by. He held his breath and kept his eyes locked on the backs of their heads as they disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. After they had passed Neronin felt it safe to move more quickly down the street. What were the chances that two midnight patrols would be walking down the same street at the same time?
He lengthened his stride until he came to the familiar, half-abandoned looking home he knew to belong to the Transmuter. The necromancer glanced inside the small window next to the door. Darkness inside the window did not bode well. Neronin cursed under his breath and rapt once on the door.
The house remained silent. The necromancer glanced around before knocking a second time. “Zipper! It’s me. Open up!” He hissed through the wooden panels of the door. There was no response. Neronin decided to take more drastic action. Neronin felt the crackling surge of power that was his Rupturing spark ignite and course through him. He had used it before for this type of thing, but not in a while. Neronin wasn’t confident in remembering Zipper’s home so he sent the ether to his hands and crafted a Scrying spell through her door. He couldn’t see very well because it was dark inside, but he felt it jogged his memory enough to perform the blink. Neronin felt the spark rejoice at its own power as he opened the temporary portal into her home and stepped in.
Etzos
The chilling cold of Zi’da had settled over the of Etzos by the time Neronin finally ventured back into the city proper. He moved in the shadows, carefully avoiding any patrolling watchmen. He was bedraggled and tired from long months flitting from forest to farm house and back, not to mention the trials he had spent being abused and manipulated by Vuda. It was cold and the deep darkness bit at more than his physical form. He knew who was hunting him now. It wasn’t Vuda, or the Coven. It was the same damn mage who had tormented him since childhood. Gavrel. His old master had once again returned to the city that Neronin had so succinctly robbed him of.
Neronin walked slowly along the uneven cobbles up the all too familiar street. He had been this way before, more than once. He wasn’t sure if this was the best idea, but he couldn’t bring the hunt back to the cave. If Gavrel found out where Noth lived he could destroy all they had created together and then Neronin would not have any allies. But the forlorn necromancer had another ally, possibly more suited to hunt mages than anyone he knew. Zipper.
He knew his childhood flame lived up here, though he had no idea if she was home. Zipper was always an elusive sort of girl, which was part of their initial bond. He found himself hoping, not for the first time, that he would see her again, albeit for different reasons now. That was the way of growing up on the streets, everything turned darker and ruined the once naive simplicity of friendships.
Neronin moved further into the recesses of a nearby alcove as a pair of tired and unobservant guardsmen ambled by. He held his breath and kept his eyes locked on the backs of their heads as they disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. After they had passed Neronin felt it safe to move more quickly down the street. What were the chances that two midnight patrols would be walking down the same street at the same time?
He lengthened his stride until he came to the familiar, half-abandoned looking home he knew to belong to the Transmuter. The necromancer glanced inside the small window next to the door. Darkness inside the window did not bode well. Neronin cursed under his breath and rapt once on the door.
The house remained silent. The necromancer glanced around before knocking a second time. “Zipper! It’s me. Open up!” He hissed through the wooden panels of the door. There was no response. Neronin decided to take more drastic action. Neronin felt the crackling surge of power that was his Rupturing spark ignite and course through him. He had used it before for this type of thing, but not in a while. Neronin wasn’t confident in remembering Zipper’s home so he sent the ether to his hands and crafted a Scrying spell through her door. He couldn’t see very well because it was dark inside, but he felt it jogged his memory enough to perform the blink. Neronin felt the spark rejoice at its own power as he opened the temporary portal into her home and stepped in.
