Backscene: Blood and Magic Who: Imenry Barras, Alderic Thearre, Aedre When: 21 Umbralis, 9:43 Where: South Ferelden, The Kocari Wilds Summary: Imenry is hired by a small village at the edge of the Kocari Wilds to deal with a rogue mage who has been plaguing the villagers; killing livestock to practice his blood magic and stealing from the people who are fairly poor themselves. While searching for the mage she runs across a Templar in the woods, or rather he runs across her and there is a case of mistaken identity. Blood mages always carry around large claymores, didn’t you know? Rating: T for blood, violence and blood magic Status: In Progress
It was far too cold to be schlepping through the wilds after a mage whom she had no description other than “brown hair” and “average height” and her favorite one, “a sneaky criminal”. Imenry was used to the cold, so she had that on her side, but she was far from familiar with the Kocari Wilds. She’d never been this far south in Ferelden. Her own village had been further west, south of Orlais, and while just as unforgiving a climate, there had been a lot less trees.
And it was snowing, coating everything in a fresh blanket of powder and obscuring the tracks she’d left behind. She would have to rely on another way to find the path back to the village. Turning her head slightly she cut a branch off the closest pine. She dropped the branch into the snow. She would do this occasionally as she went along, leaving herself little hints that she was on the right track.
Imenry wore her furs across her shoulders, protecting her arms and neck from the chill. Her worn, fur-lined boots crunched the snow with each step she took. Her claymore was strapped across her back securely beneath her pack. The snow fell, catching in the long strands of her hair and melting against her lashes. In the waning light her skin looked pale, but her cheeks were pink from the cold and streaked with blue paint. Her breath puffed out before her, like whispers of smoke in the air. She wore her gloves and plenty of layers, but the chill still seeped into her bones. She had to move carefully, not making too much noise that might alert someone of her approach.
She stilled beneath the branch of a tree that was bowing heavily from the weight of the snow atop it and stared. Down at the foot of the tree was a macabre scene. Blood splattered the snow though it was quickly being covered by what was coming down. The hare was twisted and stiff with cold and rigamortis, its throat slit and splayed at an awkward angle, brown fur stained red and eyes wide with animal fear. This creature had not been hunted for a meal or fur, but instead captured and drained of its blood in some ritual. Imenry used the toe of her boot to push the drift of snow aside, exposing strange symbols written there in blood.
She frowned and stepped back slowly, then turned, catching something or someone moving close by. Her eyes narrowed and searched the dark spaced between the trees. The shadows were lengthening now as the sun began to sink over the horizon. She knew she did not have much time before it was dark. It would not be safe here after the sun was gone. She would need to make camp soon.