Adventures of the Vengeful Sort - Caolan on a mission

[Caolan]

The knife slid free with a wet sound before it was wiped on the pillow case. Green eyes watched carefully as the light left the other's eyes, as the breathing stopped.. those earring lined ears lowered and he reached to grab the head of ruffled brown hair, fingers twisting into the strands before the blade was moved again, head coming loose and tossed to the floor. It would be added to the collection later when he reached it come morning.

Then she climbed from the bed, a very long days worth of deposit sliding down her thighs, the pretty golden elf wiping blood off her face as she moved towards the map and figures in the room. A soft shimmer as the illusion faded and his normal colors and gender returned, hands resting on the edge of the table as he leaned on it, weight shifted to one of those curved hips. Those pretty eyes darted over the figures, over the positioning of them, and ever so carefully over where they weren’t. Slowly, ever so slowly, a hand reached out, Clean cast to tidy up the mess of himself, his head tilting as he found a figure of himself several camps away from where he was currently. So they knew he was coming. That wasn’t unexpected, however not knowing immediately where he was… an eartwitch again, nose wrinkling.

A quick sniff, his own figure was scooped, and inspected briefly, before it was set down in the square to represent the camp he had currently invaded.. the camp commander’s figure was knocked over with a flick of his finger as he turned to look at a few scrolls. Slow. Steady. Absorbing more than reading slowly. His almost-obsessive need to record things had vanished a few weeks ago, committing things to memory as eventually scrolls and books got heavy. The only bit of parchment or paper he carried now was a map of the region, with each camp he could find marked on it, X’s on the ones he had been through already.

Perusing the documents, weight shifted again, bare toes wiggling a touch as the map was moved, an eyebrow raising.. “Well that’s interesting,” was whispered from split lips which oh so slowly curled into a smile. The first genuine one in weeks.. The new discovery was placed on top, his head tilting a touch before he gave a nod and that page was folded as small as he could get it. Over to the pile of clothes he had shed hours ago, a hiss coming as the wound on his side bled again, but he would ignore it for the most part. Clothes pulled on, he rummaged for supplies such as bandages, lamp oil, whatever he could find, even food provisions. Cheese, bread, a couple bottles of wine, and some salted meat buried under the bed’s mattress! Ha! “Jackpot.”

Everything was crammed into a bag, along with the folded bit of information he had acquired, and a blanket was snagged with another cast of Clean to get the blood off. It was fucking cold out there, and while he could keep himself warm, his precious companions could not. To the back of the tent and he knelt, tying off his boots while he listened to the movement outside. When the time was right, he slit the tent and behind him Mend was cast, a nearby bush rushed to and hidden in. They probably wouldn’t notice him dead until tomorrow afternoon, and he could get pretty far in that amount of time, and by now the scouts would be noticed missing. Timing was everything now.

Silence as the patrol passed, trying to blend into the shrubbery.. and once he deemed it safe, then Dimension Door was cast once he stood, the very edge of his vision in the waning light. His eartwitched and he stepped through, coming out in the safety of the woods, picking up a quick trot in an easterly direction, holding his bag close to ensure things wouldn’t rattle or clatter about. It didn’t take long for him to find his way, coming into a rocky, uncomfortable-looking clearing where his bag was set and a pair of wolves gnawed on the last remains of a pair of scouts from the camp he just left. The wind walker lounged in a tree with a thigh bone under one paw, licking to groom themselves, tail swaying. They all popped up excitedly, but knew better by now to make any noise, the little elf setting his pilfered items down before they were all greeted with love. “Good babies,” was said to them, ear scratches and butt scratches doled out gladly as he got all sorts of kisses.

He took a load off, a groan as he flopped down onto a larger rock, starting to go through everything. What could he leave behind? What could he keep? Is the lamp empty? The fluffy companions settled close with their prizes while he searched and managed things. Sleep. He needed sleep… but he didn’t want to stay too close, but things had to be done before he could rest. Out came herbs, and oils, bandages, and another leather bag, the head snagged from smuggled things, beginning to treat it for preservation purposes. The herbs and oils would take time to do their jobs, but they were quick to apply, and once that was done, the bandages were wrapped around it and it was crammed into the leather sack. A deep breath, then he started treating his own wound, packing it with herbs and then putting on new bandages. When that was done, everything was tucked away where it belonged, a few things left behind as it was getting expensive. Another eartwitch, bag and blankets tied together, the collection of leather sacks strapped in place, then he was up. A quick owl hoot got the fluffballs to their feet, joining him as he began a lazy lope for his new destination, eyes darting quickly about as he listened and watched for more scouts as he left the patrol area.

His could almost smell the scent of decaying sage already, something that made him sick to his stomach even to this day after being so long removed from it. Something he could never seem to scrub off.. It wasn’t all that far away, either.. not too much longer now.. not top much longer. Revenge flittered through his mind briefly, but it was justified, right? He was protecting what little bit he had left.. he was protecting anything he ever would have.. he was protecting others, not just seeking vengeance for decades of—his teeth clenched, fists doing the same. Scars across him tightened as his whole body tensed, that gold hair flopping lazily on his head, as it was cut rather short for now. To be safe.
It was about being safe. Right?

[Caolan]

The sun beat down on the sandy clearing, the building just beyond silent, looming, empty, it’s occupants crowded around the combat leaving precious little space for the warring brothers. Gold hair flashed, tied back on either of them, blood spattering pale and tanned flesh, clothing torn and ripped as knives struck out at each other. So far, the rules of no magic was adhered to, but they both knew it was only a matter of time..

A brief cloud of dust was kicked up as a thrown dagger was dodged with a quick and nimble roll of a slender form, a hiss from the defender as he rose to his feet, dagger snagged along the way and he charged forward, golden eyes flashing. Close to frenzy the other was slashed at, teeth clenched, shredded ears flattened, determination on his handsome face, but the necromancer was quick. More fabric sliced to bare the pale chest, even a sleeve caught, but there was more to the attack than just swinging wildly. It was composed. Practiced. Graceful, even, and there was true malice behind every movement and step forward to the retreating bastard, pushing him ever closer to the ring of thralls surrounding then.

To his disadvantage, it seemed, the elder twin stumbled back against the creations, using them for a soft landing as he stumbled against his own feet.. but it was not lost. Even as the youngest Leafwhistle stood above the mirror image, dagger raised, he smiled. His smile grew wider and wider, which was not expected and it threw his concentration. Not much, but just long enough.

The command word was said with full confidence, green eyes narrowing to wicked slits as each creation around them surged forth, heading for the once-offensive healer. A curse from those lips, the lip ring on the left side bitten briefly as his mind worked to try and—it was too late. There were too many. They were too quick, and too close. A cry of frustration came from him as he was swallowed by the horde, hands clawing and weapons stabbing or bashing. Dust was brushed from his clothing, which happened to be pajamas, as he got to his feet, the necromancer watching, reveling, in the screams… only they stopped too soon. It made him scowl, and huff, and he started towards the pile, just in time to be caught in the explosion.

Body parts flew, scattering to the winds and landing like birds falling from the sky. The golden healer panted wildly as the magic around him faded, as the stink of gunpowder drifted off.. the burns hurt like a bitch, his arms free of clothing and nearly free of flesh, but he had work to do. This was no time to waste an opportunity. Back on his feet with a stagger, he fumbled in a pocket for a small bottle and yanked the cork with his teeth. Maybe this would stop the scarring. A second bottle, the same thing done, while he approached the pinned caster, who snarled and cursed him.

“You won’t get away with this! I’ll have the whole family after you!” Rage. Hate. Seething, burning disgust was clear on the downed man’s face.. but the golden brother standing tilted his head ever so slightly as his steps halted and began to take on a more menacing posture.

His back straightened, his shoulders settled broad and firm, those once-delicate hands clenching into fists so hard blood seeped from his palms. From the burns? A cut that was there before? It didn’t matter. He didn’t notice. A smirk of his own rose, making scars crinkle in ways that they didn’t heal to do, a touch of something strange in his eyes. Three words were spoken.

“Let them come.”

This infuriated the intact elf, a roar as he cast another spell to toss the torso and legs that held him down towards the blood-drunk twin.. the advance was faster.

Sweat down their temples, breath coming fast, grunts and groans of effort, growls as one got the upper hand and then it switched with a desperate lurch. It was.. erotic.. in its own way, the hair pulling, the scratching, clothing torn, pinning, groping for a hold on the other. The dance continued, each fighter growing practically muddy from the combat, and then.. shoulders were pinned, hands were moved too quickly for the other to react, distracted by the remaining corpses collecting scattered weapons.

“You will pay.” Saliva spattered on the cheeks of the pinned elf, the other near foaming as those hands tightened. Eyes blinked, rolled briefly, flesh darkening as blood was cut off. Lungs moved fast and desperate for air, but everything was going dark. Fast. A hand dropped and began to grope, fingers seeking something, anything.. A branch? No. An arm.. attached to a torso. No good.. maybe there was—ah! Seeking digits felt exposed bone, wrapping around the discovered rib, one swift motion tearing it free and—

The offensive brother herked briefly, his grip loosening immediately, just enough for bloodflow to resume, which brought renewed strength to toss the damaged man off. A snap was heard as he rolled, the other scrambling for a bit of distance to catch his breath and clear his vision. Hands on his knees, he doubled over, taking a moment. The stink of sage was everywhere, along with that of decay as things began to rot.

A hand went to his side, inspecting the damage only to find the rib had been stuffed under his own, hooking into the bottom of his lung, and then back out the ribcage. It had snapped off at the exit point, and disappeared into bleeding flesh where it went in. Air was precious now, and it enraged him. Teeth clenched he staggered to his feet, starting a chant, breaking the rules once more, but he wasn’t going to get that chance.

Blood, vision and air returned, the younger charged, straight and true, weaponless, not planning to pick one up, either, on his way. That would distract him. Throw his pace off. Reduce momentum.. perhaps it would have been a good thing because all of a sudden his face changed, his eyes widened and he fell, rolling and ending up on his belly. It distracted the other and the spell stopped. Had he tripped?

Cao felt like he couldn’t breathe. The wind was knocked out of him. Gone. It was gone. That familiar feeling that had been with him for so long was suddenly… gone. Home was gone. Love was gone. Devotion, adoration.. gone. He was gone. Slowly he got to his hands and knees, groping over his shoulder to see if there had been damage, if he was missing flesh, if something had disrupted the spell but… no such luck.

He was gone.

That golden gaze darted from side to side, panic seen for just a moment, which gave the green-eyed brother the chance to start his spell again, but the words didn’t last. He was interrupted by a horrible sound, and just stared. It ripped from Cao’s throat, fists clenched again, all his strength poured into the howl, the wail, of abandonment, loss, frustration.. Everyone that had left him.. it rushed through his mind, adding to the sound he made. Alone. He was alone… except for him. That made him made. What was wrong with him that only that fuck would want him and no one else?

What had seethe beneath the surface for more than a century began to bubble its way out. Hate. Rage. He screamed himself hoarse, and it felt like something tore by the time he was finished but he didn’t care. Not anymore. His gaze settled on the standing man, and something had changed. Something was wrong. No longer a little off, but just plain wrong.

Slowly he got to his feet, breathing slow and steady. Focused. A few steps were taken forward, advancing, until he paused and collected a hatchet from a torn arm. The hand groped once it was empty, but it was ignored for the moment as he kept going. A fire started somewhere.

Dry wood sparked, spurred on by dry grass and long-gone ferns, catching clothing, licking flesh, spreading from one animated corpse to another, making the unbearable even hotter. An ear twitched, but the fire got no notice.. and those green eyes stared. He knew he was in trouble, but he has no idea the depths of it, spell picked up from the beginning again as Cao kept walking toward him, hatched gripped tightly. A few steps taken back by the speaker, causing him to stumble over a torso, but kept his footing, rising and lowering as he stepped on it.

“They’ll come for you! They’ll hunt you down! You’ll loose everything! Everyone!” it was snarled, no fear, a deep-seated knowledge that he would be stopped by that. The threat of loneliness, of loss, would surely make him pause, even, just enough to—

Caolan charged instead, hatchet buried in his brother’s shoulder before the elder knew what had happened. A gasp, his balance lost as Cao continued with his momentum and toppled both of them, and once more they were on the ground. Pain coursed through his arm, his shoulder, his chest, the limb almost severed from him, blood gushing… and green eyes stared at the wound before he started shrieking.
Cao let him carry on for a moment or two before those words were repeated again, “Let them come.” And… that was enough. The screaming stopped. The blood sprayed across his face and torso, thick and rancid, rotting sage filling his nostrils for the last time. The sparkle faded from his eyes as the fury left him, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion, but his task was not yet complete. Slowly he climbed off his brother, relief sweeping through him that he would never have to do that again. The hatchet was abandoned as the still-standing forms around him fell apart and started festering. Not a sound from him.

The wolves and windwalker came from the edge of the trees where there was still green, approaching cautiously.. but Caolan gave them affection and attention each, as he had always done, pausing and giving a nod to the trio. They moved quickly through the mess of fire and purifying flesh to the one thing edible: the headless elf. They wasted no time, but Caolan didn’t watch. Didn’t wait. The head was what he wanted, and it was picked up and dusted off, held almost delicately as he stared at the mirrored, unspoiled visage, lids half closed, lips parted slightly, color fading.

Eyes met, and Caolan managed the smallest of smiles. He was free. “I’ll take good care of you,” came whispered. If he could be louder than that it was hard to tell, but the golden hair was grabbed and he headed into the forest.

He was done, and now he was tired.

[Caolan]

Silence. That’s all that surrounded him in the forest clearing.. the world around him carried on as if nothing had been wrong, nothin g had changed, but for Caolan Leafwhistle, the youngest of the main clan, everything had changed. It had all come tumbling down around his ears, and everything felt like it was in slow motion while he slowly looked over the mess that was his home. He knew it had been damaged, he knew that things were broken, but the state he left things in was far better than they were now.

The house had been looked, anything of value gone, the furniture and everything else collapsed long ago, along with the rest of the surviving structure. Just a pile of rubble now, where three stories of carefully tended to and well-loved home used to be. Where memories had been made, where people where loved and pies sat on the window sill to cool while the elf scrubbed the floor by hand to get the flour out of the tile grout and make sure nothing was squished up against the baseboard. Holes had painstakingly been patched along the outside of the foundation every spring to ensure that ants and water never made it in, and the same thing as the weather grew colder, each window and door frame relieving the same treatment. Where those he loved once so desperately were given shelter, held onto their keepsakes, even at times patrolled the surrounded woods for him to ensure his safety before settling on the porch swing for ale and cuddles on an autumn evening…

Gone.

Thousands of coins poured into the improvements, the furniture, few knickknacks and bits of artwork he was starting to accumulate. The kitchen cookware, the stove, the fireplaces.. had everyone managed to get their things out? Did Yuri have his daggers? Did Yandel have his jewelry? What about Butterfly’s outfits, Brussk’s blanket and cloak, Droyn’s clothes, the ones he took in for only a few days before they disappeared? Had they everything that was left behind? What about those silk sheets, fluffy pillows, his bathrobe, the wedding outfits, his favorite frying pan? What about—

It stirred him from his frozen place as he thought about what had been lost, but he didn’t move far, staggering only a few feet before something glinting in the waning sunlight catching his searching eye. A shuddering breath was drawn in and he crawled towards it, digging slowly with shaking hands, moving away pieces that used to be the porch roof and then.. he stopped to stare. It had made him so happy, once. Wanted. Loved. Cherished. Desired. Now it took his breath away, suffocating him in self-doubt that had been assuaged so nearly three years, drowning him in abandonment issues that he had struggled so hard to overcome.. the wedding ring that he had given Droyn sat on the seat if what used to be the porch swing.. and he just stared, air caught in his lungs, hands shaking as they remained motionless.

A new level of heartbreak tore through his chest that he didn’t know was possible. Not when Traael got rid of him. Not when River left without a word and was never seen again. Not when Teo wouldn’t marry him, or when she wouldn’t see him again. Not when Kayla declared he had tried to kill her and she hated him forever more. Not when he found out Tenni and Brussk were dating and he had lost his chance with both. When Dias grew disinterested it wasn’t this bad.. Arothiel's disappearance wasn’t even this close, for when then there had been hope... He felt physically ill. A hand went to his forehead, flesh burning as he swayed on his knees, his stomach churning, air rushing back into his lungs far too quickly, causing him to pant and gasp to regulate again..

His mind began to piece things together slowly. The long days gone. The anger. Disappearing for months at a time.. he had chalked it all up to the job, and Droyn just.. being who he was.. but as the sun sank behind the trees and the glimmer on that beautiful ring faded, the terrible sensation he had felt while murdering his twin made sense. Droyn had not died. The spell hadn’t faltered. He sniffed softly and reached out to collect the bit of precious jewelry between the tips of his forefinger and thumb and lifted it from where it had sat for who knows how many months. It was raised to eye height, and slowly turned about so he could read the inscription.. and that’s when it all hit him. The elf wailed, loud and long and full of pain, birds fluttering from nearby trees and insects going silent.

He doubled over and placed his hands on the scattered and splintered wood and stone, tears falling like the rain as he sobbed, trying to breathe but it seemed so fruitless. So hopeless. Everything inside him shook, lungs burning, heart feeling as though it would both stop and explode at the same time.. and it was in this state that he stayed, sobbing out his pain and suffering over the last who knows how long, finally breaking after months of stoic hunting and killing and torture and destruction. This … was what he came home to. Nothing. No one. Desolation.

As the sun began to rise the elf had fallen asleep on the remains of happiness, face swollen, eyes red, ring clutched so tightly nails had dug into his skin and left him bleeding. No wolves. No wind walker. No overweight, domestic short hair calico, no overactive Dethstrier. Just.. him. His lashes felt frozen as he tried to open them, shivering as he woke and got his bearings, rubbing sleep and ice crystals from his eyes, flesh that was once burning now colder than it should be. A quick spell of Warmth to ward off the chills as he began to sit up. Had it been a dream? Did he really make it home? It would not have been the first time he woke up disoriented and unaware, thinking of the open arms of—the pain hit again. A deep breath as he looked down to the ring in hand. Real. It was all real.

To his feet, then, ring stuffed into his pocket, and he moved to where the kitchen had been, scowling at the sheer amount of debris that had accumulated, but with some digging and some magic, the floorboards were exposed hours later, the labor helping him push it all aside for now. Not all the kitchen floor, just the spot under the table.. it seemed intact.. a few knocks to find the right spot, then up came a floorboard and he let out a breath. His chest. It was pulled out of the hole and set down, a key fumbled from inside his boot and he unlocked the chest to see the glittering gems, gold and mithril he had collected, including his wedding hair pieces, bits he had been planning to give away as gifts.. a sniff and it was given a quick examination before the lid was shut and the lock put in place once more, then it was to his feet and slowly over to his backpack, stumbling briefly. A lantern and some extra oil was exchanged for the chest, a few things shifted around to make room inside before he turned back to the mess that had been his new beginning so long ago and began to douse it in oil.

It didn’t take long, his supply having run rather low, but he emptied every jar and lantern and small emergency pot he had created, tossing the empty containers onto it then stepping back further and further. Did he really want to do this? …he could have it rebuilt. He could visit the REB, have them clear things, have the place put back exactly the way it was.. with empty closets. And empty rooms. And empty beds. And empty stables. The tears choked him for another moment before he shook his head fiercely. No. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Chapped and split lips parted, whispering the words to ignite the oil, flames roaring to life to consume everything. He watched it grow, spreading slowly from beam to beam, devouring beds and couches and curtains, the ornate chair he always felt strange sitting in, the room he had outfitted with sex furniture and toys he had no idea how to use, melting pots and pans that had brought so much joy.. but he watched it burn. No more tears. That was enough.

The sun was rising over the canopy as he straightened himself, firm in the belief that this chapter in his life was closed. The need to please. The desire to be desired. The hopelessness of never being good enough. Done. He adjusted his coat and collected his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders and shifting so it settled into that comfortable spot on his back again. A deep breath was drawn into lungs that still held the burn of the night before, the weight on his shoulders never lightening but.. changing. No jobs. No tower. No family. No lovers. Not even sure he had somewhere to stay.. time to start new.. but this time, he wasn’t in chains.

Without another glance as the fire spread deep into what was, he turned away and started for town, boots carrying him across the ground as it started to snow. It was all different now.. but was it for the better?

Caolan Leafwhistle was free.

[Caolan]

~~ Fin ~~

You can catch up with Caolan IC at any point. Pms are welcome, as always.