Private - The Other Side

Lucia had been thinking on how to thoroughly train @Savannah Reed for a long time. Those close to her were always very important, her first priority in most cases even. She wanted to think of a way to bolster her knight's confidence and know how on how to deal with certain opponents. She couldn't think of any real way to expose Savannah to what it was like to encounter high level foes in such a disadvantaged situation to make her feel as if it were real danger she was exposed to though. It was hard to enter into such a situation, like a high powered boss or the like, and keep it to an encounter that a person should be able to handle on their own. It was this thought that provoked Lucia to try and reverse engineer her summoning spell. If she could summon her spirits from the crystal world, she could perhaps send people inside right? It was this thought that led her to do a little bit of research. How would one go about reversing the effects of a spell? I was easier to solve when she looked at it from the perspective of healing versus causing damage. Much like the parallel, reversing a summoning spell to transport her to the other side was a great deal more complicated then the summoning process itself.

Naturally, Lucia wouldn't go through the complicated process of explaining everything to Savannah, instead, after telling her it would be a 'training experiment' she tied Savannah down to a chair, choosing a particularly provocative pose in doing so as she began to set up the spell. The ropes were tight, and against the girl's skin the burn of them would be easy to feel and understand if she tried to move, Lucia seemed a little too experienced in this sort of thing. Without much delay though, Lucia began chanting the spell, though it wasn't flashy compared to her 9 by 9 formation, it was still a 4 by 4 layered directional formation. She'd intended to send Savannah to the other side of her summoning spell where her Summons would be able to act and fight without the restrictions of the outside world restraining their potential dragging them down to the supportive characters they often acted as when she summoned them to support her in fighting.

Once the spell activated, at 4 points around them, lavender lights lit up, displaying the sides north south, east and west before it began to swivel and turn. The other layers began to appear one by one during her incantation, but as she began to wrap the spell up, she finally explained with a warm smile. "It will be hard to fight against your friends and allies, but they won't hold back. This is a learning experience Savannah, see what it's like to fight against high level mobs one versus one okay?" She spoke, wanting Savannah to have experience facing those impossible odds of defending against collosal figures one by one. Triggering the spell, the small crystal ball at the center would glow a bright lavender color, before slowly drawing Savannah and the chair she was tied to closer and closer. Only when contact was finally made did a strange feeling come over the death night, like being thrown suddenly into the air, the sensation of flying and then soon after, falling could be felt as she'd see the ground below her rapidly approaching, landing with a dull thud into a yellow river with roiling and billowing fog. The waters itself would have no strange or unique taste to it, but the atmosphere would be particularly eerie and no doubt take some time to get used to. If Savannah had ever seen Lucia playing with the crystal ball, she'd recognize her surroundings as the center most portion of the land contained within it.

 

Lucia’s Death Knight broke the surface of the river with a hard-fought breath of fresh air. She inhaled and tossed her head, her silver eyes immediately scanning either bank for enemies. Lucia said she wouldn’t find friends here, only powerful mobs for her to test herself against. Was she not already strong? Did Lucia believe that she needed to be stronger? Had she missed something pivotal recently and the Dark Lady was trying to help her hone her skills because of it? Doubt swam through Savannah’s body, but she tried to shake it away. She could doubt later when she was on dry land.

She bobbed there in the river, blinking water from her eyes and trying to squint through the low fog that collected around her. She didn’t rightly know where she was. She could remember that odd crystal ball that Lucia messed with drawing her in, the enchanting shimmer too powerful a pull to look away. One more, she was sitting before it, tied and bound and naked and the next, she was falling through the air, screaming her head off while she did so, and now she was here. She looked down and groaned, finding that she was still sans her armor. Being in her birthday suit and navigating a strange land was not her idea of a great time.

But the ropes had fallen away, the chair was gone, and she could move freely. Anxiety rolled in her chest and ate up the minute space in her lungs, but she switched her brain to other matters…like which bank she could crawl onto. Both seemed empty from her location and while neither seemed overly inviting, neither seemed overly dangerous as well. She glanced between them a finally time before grunting and swimming toward the western bank, the water rolling over her dark blue skin with ease. It was cold, and the coloration was off, but there was nothing odd about the river.

Lucia’s words continued to repeat inside her head. Something about fighting her friends and allies and stronger mobs. So, this had to be a test of a strength or a training…course or something. But she was expected to fight her friends? That gave her pause even as she dragged her slender form onto the bank of the river, her breath heaving from her chest. A slow exhale got her breathing under control. She wasn’t sure what Lucia wanted her to learn while she was here, but she was the Dark Mistress’s knight and she would accept this challenge with the face and strength she knew she possessed.

Shit, she whispered to herself, the silence of the place overwhelming. Do I even have my weapon? Opening her inventory, she was surprised to see it there. However, without her armor, she had no bath sheath to keep it in and carrying it around in her hands didn’t seem like a good idea, not when she didn’t know where she was going nor what she would face. Nevertheless, the idea of being without a weapon frightened her more than she could put into words. Seeing that she had somehow forgotten to return the wooden hand axes from her time with Luna, she equip one in her dominant hand and slowly got to her feet.

First thing was first: she needed to find some clothes and then head toward the nearest piece of civilization…if there was any such thing here in his Lucia’s crystal ball. She doubted it. But, then again, she had never had a chance to look into it and inspect what was in there, so it was possible. Shivering slightly, she turned toward the forest and climbed up the bank, her wet footprints leaving tracks in the dirt behind her. ​

 

When Savannah reached the shore and started walking, it would simply look like an endless plain out to the horizon, seeing past a certain distance however was a bit difficult, as if a shadow were cast over the land and there was merely one vague spotlight illuminating her position from far too high to see the source. The distance she could see however was plenty enough to spy an archer in the distance, the range wasn't crippling or suffocating, but instead seemed natural in the place, as if light was difficult to come by, and that she had been given a special exception for the sake of this practice.

After walking a fair distance and seeing nothing however, she might think something went wrong, it just seemed to be emptiness after leaving the river. If she happened to be unfortunate enough to walk until the river was left behind in the darkness, she might be able to backtrack and find that it had disappeared into that dark territory somewhere, no longer where it had been just a short while ago. The direction she wandered didn't seem to matter, even if she walked in circles, the surroundings would change and be different each time somehow making it particularly disorientating.

"When I was alive... I found myself taken by the arts. Painting and sculpting in particular--"

A voice reached out to her, she'd find it familiar, the image of the gentleman wraith no doubt coming to mind. It was Mortimer's voice that seemed to call out to her from the aether.

"It was my love for art that became my most yearned for accomplishment, but Painting and Sculpting were already thoroughly being tested and expanded in my era. There were many skilled geniuses who had a hand at developing the art-form, my two cents weren't necessary. If I'm being honest, I hardly had the time outside of my work with the Winter's Claw as well."

It was a strange thing to explain, an odd introduction but as Savannah wandered, even if she stood still she'd see the scenery begin to change as Mortimer spoke. Slowly trees would begin to appear in the empty landscape, an occasional ruined wall from a brick building covered in moss appearing from time to time. It looked like a quaint and fantastical ancient forest one might expect to see in some kind of landscaping fan art. But occasionally there would be a grizzly sight of a corpse pinned to a tree by a tree branch with wooden stakes tied to it so that it would remain against the tree, or a dead body with blood splashed against the wall or tree. One particular corpse had been so twisted around it's hands, arms, legs and feet were all pointing in different directions. Each one had a different facial expression, but none seemed to be afraid or horrified despite their harrowing end.

"And so, I thought if I could not see my dream through due to my work, why not live out my dream through my work? Every corpse sculpted and posed, walls painted in shades of red; each piece trying to give justice to their end, to preserve their final moments, that brief flash that contained the last vivid struggle. In hindsight I realize that such things are the deranged acts of a madman, but at the time, I found them to be beautiful pieces, each one I can still remember with such vivid recollection; every knife wound, every bruise, blow after blow positioning them for the coup de grace~ The grand finale as it were... Mad, yes, but I do still take pride in my work, and, the Matriarch willing; I have been known to paint and sculpt in this era from time to time."

As the landscape changed, it would settle on a large battlefield. There were dozens, hundreds of corpses, some not even making it to the center as they were slain by traps, pitfalls or just stabbed by a myriad of daggers and blades that had been thrown from afar. Each one dying in a particular pattern, blood pouring out from the back where the blades exited the body. If Savannah had the insight to glance around she'd notice that they happened to be killed at certain points to create an image from above, Each body a stem, the blood spilled splashing to create a pedal closing together as they approached the center most point where there was a small pile forming a ring, though it seemed only a handful of soldiers made it to that center most place to have their throats slit or bodies stabbed by the assailant in question. All together they formed a giant flower and at it's center, Mortimer stood, with arms folded behind his back, his appearance as calm and tranquil as always, posture straight and professional as it usually was despite the scenery.

"I'm telling you this, young knight, because the few who could escape the fate of becoming my 'art' were only those who could survive in the most hostile environments. It falls on me to play the role of the villain, and teach you the importance of vigilance and caution... the importance of not being crippled by fear... As fear has a habit of destroying even the most heroic of figures."

 

The Death Knight, upon hearing Mortimer’s words, immediately took a step back. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing the rolling mist and the forest and the desolate land beyond that. She had walked it all, turned around, tried other directions, and still ended up here. Understanding that this was a test, she also understood that there was something specific she was supposed to do. Lucia was trying to teach her something, though what in the world the lesson was, Savannah was unsure. Somehow it employed the gentleman wraith before her.

Silver eyes swerved back to his astute figure standing there amongst the carnage of bodies around him. Savannah had reason to give pause, but she was internally fighting the panic and fear that he had spoken about. It was a live thing that clawed through her, lashing at her ribs and shredding the muscles and lining of her stomach. She was sure she would vomit at any moment. Sweat broke out upon her brow and she found it hard to swallow, hard to focus, hard to do much of anything other than stand there with wide eyes and a quickly beating heart.

There was no way that she could best him in battle. He was the leader of the Winter’s Claw and while Savannah hadn’t seen what he could do in battle, the other Citizens spoke highly of him. She honestly didn’t want to see. The picture she had in her head of Mortimer was delightfully void of carnage, death, and destruction. After today, there was no guarantee that it would remain that way.

Sir Mortimer, Savannah whispered, her voice catching because of her nerves. She cleared her throat and clenched her fingers into fists, a shaky step taken toward him instead of away. I…I don’t have my weapons or my armor. She refused to glance down at her naked form, refused to acknowledge that he could run her through with one of his daggers and there would be nothing she could do.

Savannah wet her lips and fought harder against the panic. The realization that this was Death she was speaking to made her shudder where she stood. How could she not be afraid? How could she steel herself against the overwhelming feeling of unfairness that was threatening to engulf her? What was she supposed to learn through this?! From this?!

I…can’t fight you. I’d lose, immediately. It…would be a slaughter. ​

 

Mortimer remained unmoving with his arms folded behind his back, patient as ever. His gentlemanly figure and presence was clear, he didn't attempt to attack Savannah in her confusion, or pressure her with his actions or forceful words. Explaining with a reassuring calm despite the harrowing atmosphere, he spoke as if it were no big deal. "Do not be so quick to underestimate yourself, certainly the morbid deeds I'd committed in life are quite demoralizing, but I assure you that I'm no longer capable of causing such disasters." He offered, after all, in his previous life, he had been an infamous figure, one that had been considered the boogyman of a few generations, stories were told to children about the 'Mortimer the Manslayer' or the tales of the Winter's Claw to prevent them from going out at night alone. Despite that though, Mortimer continued to reassure her that she shouldn't expect such incredible things from him any more.

"At the present, I'd likely not even be able to defeat Sylvanas in a confrontation any more. In life, most of my combat skills came from my legs." He elaborated feeling that Savannah might just believe him to be modest as he often was. The sad truth was, Mortimer was an assassin who specialized in killing with martial arts. He was skilled with his hands, as a saboteur as an alchemist and musician, he could perform a great many tasks with his dexterous hands, but it was for those reasons he tried not to use them for combat; the risk was just too great, if he lost his hands or even just a few fingers, he wouldn't be able to build or arrange traps, his cover would not be nearly as strong.

Instead, Mortimer had used his feet, legs and knees to kill his way through torrents of soldiers, only occasionally brandishing a blade or knife to defend when necessary and to carve up his foes as an 'artist'. Without a corpse to raise though, Mortimer was reborn as a wraith, without legs to kill with, but at the same time, his hands no longer needed to be guarded so strictly. It was for that reason he acted as a saboteur rather then a killer as an undead, he made use of explosives, blades and chain-linked weapons as an assassin rather then killing his way through his foes as he once did in life. It was a unique challenge, one that was still somewhat foreign, but allowed him the repentance he'd desired out of his second life.

"Do keep in mind though, young knight, that you're already being gripped by fear. Those who became my 'art' often ended up so because they were paralyzed by this feeling. Those who are overwhelmed by their emotions were easy to direct and move about the field. It is important to note, that even against impossible odds, action is better then inaction, and calm action is better then rash action." He lectured with a nodding head, unmoving, as if expecting Savannah to come to him... the action was strange though, he was an assassin, one who SAvannah had seen disappearing in wisps of smoke before appearing in other locations. For the assassin to just remain still and wait for an attack was it's own reason for being uneasy.

 

She wanted to laugh at Mortimer’s words, but she feared too much for her life to allow the chuckle to part her lips. She did, however, squint at him, her fingers tightening around the handle of her single axe. He was still capable of causing disasters. Lucia stilled called upon him in combat and perhaps he wasn’t as deadly as he might’ve been in his true life, but the Citizens as well as Savannah still feared him. He was underestimating himself.

The Death Knight remained where she stood, her heart hammering in her chest, her eyes wide and glancing around her for any traps or incoming enemies. She didn’t understand this trial, didn’t know what Lucia meant to do with her once she got sucked into that magical crystal ball. Mortimer said he was here to deliver a lesson, but Savannah wished he would just get on with it. Her mind had already given up; she knew she couldn’t face him and win. She would be walking to her death if she tried.

But wasn’t that what Lucia always wanted from her? To try her best? To give it her all? To never be afraid of failure because Lucia was there to support her? Even in Death, the Necromancer could call Savannah back to this world and it would be no sweat from her brow. Savannah could look up into the smiling features of a woman she loved and paid homage to instead of the cold, lifeless eyes of the temple priestesses.

Mortimer’s words were the tipping point. He was right; action was always better than inaction. And since her visit with Lucia, Savannah only took calm and calculated actions. She didn’t want to thread that reckless line again, putting herself and her friends in danger because the bloodcraze of battle fell upon her.

So, slowly, she advanced upon the wraith, her silver eyes determined, the second wooden hand axe appearing in her free hand. She took her time and was careful to keep a watchful eye. Who knew if the wraith also had necromantic powers like his mistress…​

 

Seeing Savannah advancing Mortimer nodded in acceptance. Certainly in this world Lucia had said she would have to fight her friends, but that didn't mean there had to be grudges or hard feelings. At least, Mortimer was earnestly trying to pass on some learning and lessons as he continued. "Indeed, action opposed to inaction is best. However, when it comes to reaction, things become a tad more blurred. You see--" Mortimer started, his words as if timed perfectly aligned with the soil beneath Savannah's next step coming loose. A pitfall would be anyone's initial instinct, after all she'd seen so many corpses stuck in ditches full of sharpened bamboo and wooden stakes.

If Savannah was too distracted by the shaking and roiling soil in front though, she might miss sight of the large log swinging down from the canopy above. The loosened soil was merely a small ditch dug to mislead the person into trying to protect themselves from a 'fall' while the swinging log thrusts them up from the ground and into the distance. It was a well coordinated and thought out trap, orchestrated in a method that Mortimer had done dozens upon thousands of times. Naturally though if Savannah had been struck, depending on how fat she'd been thrown by the large wooden hammer she'd find there was no follow up. Instead she'd hear Mortimer's voice, but from closer up this time-- If she glanced back to that center point where he had been before, she'd find the remains of smoke still diffusing in the space he'd left behind. Instead, he'd appear a few meters to her left looking to her as his commentary continued.

"--one must certainly 'react' to threats, there in lies the difficulty; 'if i must react, i cannot act'. There are a great many warriors who thrive off of this theory, pressuring someone, making sure there is no time to catch their breath or act on their own, forever reacting to their opponents blows--" Mortimer continued, as if expecting Savannah to swing at him from so close up though, he'd turn into a puff of smoke, anticipating Savannah's swing, closing the gap when her axe passed by him. "--Initiative, I suppose is the point I'm trying to make. In combat the one who has the advantage is the one who holds the initiative. For instance--" He'd continue trying to push Savannah backwards, no doubt towards another series of diabolical traps or tricks. The Wraith's palm was agile and quick, not necessarily strong, but not weak either.

 

She looked down.

The minute she did, she knew she shouldn’t have, but the action was done. The earth was crumbling beneath her feet, giving way and leaving her suspended for a mere moment in the air. Savannah was not a fast person. She was too used to wearing her heavy armor and swinging around a weapon that took away most, if not all, of her inertia. When she started moving, she continued in that direction until she met her enemy, or her enemy met her. There were no quick dashes to the left or the right, no feints in and out of battle and certainly no stylish backflips to keep her out of danger.

So, she fell.

Or, she thought she was going to fall into a much deeper hole than the pit she found herself standing in. The ditch only appeared to be about knee high so when the earth gave way, Savannah prepared herself to fall for eternity and then land on some sharp spikes at the bottom of the ditch. What she hadn’t expected was for a thick tree to come swinging down from the canopy and bowling her over.

The Knight, taken by surprise as she was, flew quite a distance from where she originally stood, her weapon flying from her hand. She landed hard on the ground, the wind knocked from her lungs due to impact, her body instinctively curling to protect her soft stomach while her arms went to protect her head and neck. Yet, no attack came.

There was no pain, no rain of blows or flurry of kicks. Savannah was left completely alone and, surprised, she peeked out from her safety cocoon, her silver eyes quick to glance around her to make sure she wasn’t falling into another trap. There was Mortimer, not three feet from her, his visage the same as when he was yards away from her, standing in the middle of the carnage. She gasped, coughed, and slowly took to her feet, one arm wrapped protectively around her bare midsection. Her ribs radiated with pain.

And then, the gentleman wraith was upon her, pressing her back with his movements, his hands striking out at any weak point that Savannah hadn’t the time nor thought to cover. She was nothing without her weapons where Mortimer was still a forced to be reckoned with. That was the underlying problem; she didn’t know how to deal with him. Sure, she had stamped down the fear that festered inside her, but pain had replaced that feeling and now adrenaline spiked through her, her fight or flight response making her breaths come quick and sharp.

She blocked what she could, but she couldn’t find an opening. There was no chance for her to try and hit him back, even though her fingers were curled into fists and she ducked and dodged like she had seen in the movies. It didn’t matter; purple-blue bruises soon mottled her upper chest, arms, neck, and one side of her face.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the wooden axe laying amongst the foliage and, ducking one of Mortimer’s strikes at the last moment, she swooped down to grab it. Her fingers curled around the familiar shaft and she brought it up in a wide arc, aiming to finally, hopefully, go on the offensive and strike back at the wraith harrying her. ​

 

Mortimer kept trying to strike Savannah back, his movements agile, his blows were strong but not immensely so. It was clear that he was still getting into the swing of using his hands for combat, but at the same time the professional in him didn't allow him to be useless. It was only when Savannah took a long arcing swing to try to deal with him that Mortimer would retreat-- despite retreating Savannah would feel her axe hit 'something'. Suddenly appearing a few meters away, Mortimer nodded simply. If Savannah looked closely she'd find his wrist was bent at an odd angle, unnaturally so even.

"An so, the other side seizes the initiative." Mortimer spoke with a flake of praise in his words as the sound of him forcing his wrist back into shape could be heard, the grinding sound of bones churning couldn't be heard, instead it seemed a simple task for him to fix his crippled hand. "But it should be put into practice properly; We'll continue until you realize 'how' I suppose." He spoke still determined to push Savannah until she understood the purpose of the lesson.

There were still traps laid about making things difficult, small pitfalls sometimes with spikes, swinging logs, even branches that swung up with sharpened stakes on them. It was a hazard zone no doubt, but Mortimer made it harder. As a wraith he floated through the air, unable to trigger his own traps with his weight as he passed over them harmlessly without a care and continued trying to fight back against Savannah. It would no doubt be a tough battle, exchanging blows after a while, but Savannah would begin to understand what Mortimer was trying to teach her at least.

As an assassin, Mortimer could dodge and use agility to close the gap to reach her, but if she used a long enough sweep it would be hard for him to stay in the fight and instead force him back. The more she continued these sweeps, the more room she'd make for herself, or at least push him into a place of trying to force his way through her swings. While it wasn't a perfect method yet, Mortimer could still find places to slip through the sweeps every once in a while, it was no doubt easier for Savannah to deal with things and not feel threatened by the traps. Mortimer would continue waiting for movements to strike Savannah until she learned this new parrying and warding technique well enough to make it her own.