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Long Traveled Roads Part III (NSFW)

The day was wending its way back toward nightfall when the group found the resting place they sought.  It was nestled on the coast near the ocean in some ancient ruins that might have been a lighthouse once upon a time and behind it, deep caves pocketed the coastline that were perfect for an old vampire to hide in.  Viatryx, once again buried in the folds of her too large robe did not have high hopes for living survivors.  As their horses came to a stop, she clambered down into the sands, and stared from within the depths of her hood.  The stillness reminded her of the camp’s stillness and she raised her hands, weaving a complex rune into the air where it hung; glowing and waiting for her.  Whispering soft words, she set the rune of unmaking to its work, and watched as it simply faded into nothingness.

            “What was that?”  Mediea asked as she approached.  Viatryx frowned and shook her head. 

 

            “A rune of unmaking.  I distrust the silence here, but it would seem there are no illusions to dispel.” Viatryx said as Darius came to join them.  He radiated surliness, but had so far listened when she gave an order—staying at Mediea’s side for the duration of their travels.  It had been Viatryx who had called for brief rests along the way, forcing the group to eat and sleep while she kept watch.  When Mediea had asked if she needed rest, she had declined an answer.  Her lips though, felt flaky and parched, and her skin was too tight against muscle and bone.

 

            “You don’t mean to say that this place is completely unguarded, do you?”  Darius asked as he looked about the otherwise deserted beach.  The sorceress shook her head as a cool, clean breeze rifled their hair and clothing, and brought with it a faint urge to race along the breaking edge of whitecaps as they closed on the shoreline. 

 

            “I don’t mean to say anything, Darius.  I would say that there are traps aplenty, and that perhaps the ocean’s magic hides them from us more effectively than any illusion spell might.”  Viatryx retorted, patience wearing thin as she picked up the hem of her robe and padded forward.  “We should start with the ruins.  Rather.  You should start with the ruins, and I will go into the caves.  We are running out of daylight with which to fight.” 

 

            “You think I trust you not to disappear into those damned caves?  How do we know that you are not the final hook in the trap?  That you do not work with that monster?  You are both alike…” Darius did not finish his sentence as without ceremony, Viatryx was upon him.  Her short stature prevented her from gripping his throat easily, and it was not her way to be obscene.  Instead, the air around her misted just slightly—bringing with it the days old carrion stench of death and decay that made it hard for the warrior to breathe.  She watched as Darius dropped to one knee, coughing, and eyes watering as he struggled for a clean breath.

 

            “Hope.  Hope, Darius of clan No Name that you never encounter me on the day when I am finally like that.” She snarled, turning on Mediea as the young woman raced up.  “See that you hold by your oath, and that he does too.”

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