Frost 30, 122
It was somewhat more than a week before Imogen Ward returned from Gel'Grandal to Kalzasi to await her transport, and it would be a lie to say that she had kept to her plan to remain humanoid the entire time. As powerful as Traversion might one day prove to be, its repeated use had proven far more exhausting than her initiation into Animus, and so she'd ended up flying the better part of the way northeast.
As a sort of metaphysical forfeit to her discarded goal, she had lost all of her clothing again. The matter was easily remedied with a bit of larceny on the road, but she'd found nothing befitting an Ork of her stature (despite the fact that her people were, if history was to be believed, the first inhabitants of the far north). So it was, instead, that she marched up the road to the Jewel of Karnor wearing both stolen clothes and a stolen skin, looking every bit like a slightly-bedraggled cousin of Anna Carina Caron.
"I suppose I should be grateful for the banks." Imogen noted to herself, "Or I'd have to plant stashes of avens around too." It had been some time since she'd done any rite to propriate Avenna. The next time she found an appropriate Guild facility, she'd pay to light a candle or something. Never wise to snub the lady of coins.
By the time the Ork-cum-human reached the outskirts of Kalzasi proper, the sun had set and night was upon the world. Unwilling to face the gloaming shadows without her Runes available, the witch called forth her staff. It was... a bit large for this form, being a foot and a half taller than Carina, but under the pressure of her will it became light and pliant as down. Crucially, it also bore at one end an unusually large dragonshard, which she willed alight in a thin nimbus of sunshine.
The sight of a young woman in ill-fitting clothes holding a glowing mage's staff drew curious looks from the few travelers still willing to take the roads outside of the city at night, but that didn't bother Imogen. She hadn't done anything illegal.
(Well, she had actually, but, per usual, nothing anyone could possibly pin on her.)
Remarkably, though, the hours passed uneventfully. The city grew closer and closer, and yet the shadow beasts which had bedeviled her in Ecith, Zaichaer and the Imperium seemed... strangely absent. The sky was nothing but featureless darkness, cloud cover blocking the moon completely, and the forests to the side of the road were quiet. It was a deep gloom, but perfectly solitary. Peaceful
"A good start to this trip." the Sunsinger concluded, smugly.
At once, it began to rain. Not cold enough to freeze but bitter and stinging against her exposed human skin. A terrible thought ran through Imogen's mind:
"I didn't steal the fucking umbrella."
The witch stood still in the middle of the road, soaked by the cold rain, suddenly miserable.
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It was somewhat more than a week before Imogen Ward returned from Gel'Grandal to Kalzasi to await her transport, and it would be a lie to say that she had kept to her plan to remain humanoid the entire time. As powerful as Traversion might one day prove to be, its repeated use had proven far more exhausting than her initiation into Animus, and so she'd ended up flying the better part of the way northeast.
As a sort of metaphysical forfeit to her discarded goal, she had lost all of her clothing again. The matter was easily remedied with a bit of larceny on the road, but she'd found nothing befitting an Ork of her stature (despite the fact that her people were, if history was to be believed, the first inhabitants of the far north). So it was, instead, that she marched up the road to the Jewel of Karnor wearing both stolen clothes and a stolen skin, looking every bit like a slightly-bedraggled cousin of Anna Carina Caron.
"I suppose I should be grateful for the banks." Imogen noted to herself, "Or I'd have to plant stashes of avens around too." It had been some time since she'd done any rite to propriate Avenna. The next time she found an appropriate Guild facility, she'd pay to light a candle or something. Never wise to snub the lady of coins.
By the time the Ork-cum-human reached the outskirts of Kalzasi proper, the sun had set and night was upon the world. Unwilling to face the gloaming shadows without her Runes available, the witch called forth her staff. It was... a bit large for this form, being a foot and a half taller than Carina, but under the pressure of her will it became light and pliant as down. Crucially, it also bore at one end an unusually large dragonshard, which she willed alight in a thin nimbus of sunshine.
The sight of a young woman in ill-fitting clothes holding a glowing mage's staff drew curious looks from the few travelers still willing to take the roads outside of the city at night, but that didn't bother Imogen. She hadn't done anything illegal.
(Well, she had actually, but, per usual, nothing anyone could possibly pin on her.)
Remarkably, though, the hours passed uneventfully. The city grew closer and closer, and yet the shadow beasts which had bedeviled her in Ecith, Zaichaer and the Imperium seemed... strangely absent. The sky was nothing but featureless darkness, cloud cover blocking the moon completely, and the forests to the side of the road were quiet. It was a deep gloom, but perfectly solitary. Peaceful
"A good start to this trip." the Sunsinger concluded, smugly.
At once, it began to rain. Not cold enough to freeze but bitter and stinging against her exposed human skin. A terrible thought ran through Imogen's mind:
"I didn't steal the fucking umbrella."
The witch stood still in the middle of the road, soaked by the cold rain, suddenly miserable.
