World Tree MUSH

    Somewhere along the line, Nythius had taken a Wrong Turn. But like any adaptable, sentient being she has taken these wrong turns in stride. Fates know her life has become a series of wrong turns, since The Man saved her from the death machine. Life has been a blur since then, consisting of wanderings between foreign worlds. If Nythius knows one thing, she knows how to navigate the tree.... to an //extent//. Basically: avoiding the tumultuous worlds and finding 'calmer' ones in which to hide. Nevermind THIS one, in which she has found herself, being home to the restless nation of Baron.

    But upon arrival, the winged one found herself surrounded by verdant, deep woodlands. This was //good//. For a couple of days now, Nythius managed to set up 'camp' in this mysterious grove. Nobody has happened upon her; no humanoids anyway. There were woodland creatures aplenty and the occasional unsavory monster -- like imps, etc -- were dispatched quickly. It alarmed Nythius at first, for this land held similarities to the one she escaped. But no.

    To anyone walking these woods -- unbeknownst to Nythius, an expanse that neighbors the kingdom of Troia -- .. they just might catch the scent of a campfire. Cooking meat.

    There may yet be more similarities too -- the sound of a loud 'WARK!' in the distance. Possibly something else familiar to her -- a chocobo! It's a pale-feathered bird, but not QUITE white, though this might not be so clear in the dim light. What probably is clear, though... is that the large bird is coming closer. The sound of running feet can be heard getting closer.

    Also, this bird has a rider. While the bird's easier to see in the setting sun, its rider is not so much. The rider is a large, heavily-armored person. The last rays of the sun hit the glistening, enamel-coated armor and glint off of it with a red-toned hue, figuratively setting the blackness aflame. Depending on how skittish Nythius is, it may set her nerves on edge.

    As it turns out, it happens to be Duncan, patrolling as the night approaches, hoping to destroy some of these monsters before they cause people trouble. The sight of a fire and the scent of roasting meat is, of course, enough to draw his attention -- have these imps made a barbecue of some poor hapless traveler? Duncan means to find out.

    DID her homeland -- the Feymarch -- have a variant of chocobo? Surely, it did! Surely! Nythius knows that sound and she //freezes//.... she only knows this copse of woods, nothing beyond it. As far as she knows, this COULD be her world.. even if the 'magic' doesn't feel the same. However when one is used to fleeing, to stay alive.... any nuance into paranoia is a strong, provocative force. Nythius, in Hume form and poised at the edge of her little campfire, sits there... still and terrified. She has a pair of rabbits roasting on a spit over the fire, with root vegetables boiling in a dented pot that she found somewhere along the way. Keen senses tell her a tale of woe...

    The sound of the mount, the fast footfalls.... fear. Has she been found?

    Nythius, in her mere tunic, tights and boots (secondhand, stolen... she hates to admit) ... eases back into a scrim of shadow, her lips pulling back into a grimace. All she can do is wait for this being to find her camp.. she begins to call her magic. Pure, shadow-based stuff; it may very well call to Duncan, whispering provocatively. It's growing, intensifying. Can imps weave this sort of force? Someone is preparing for a fight.

    Perhaps it's this that draws the rider to pull the mount to a stop some distance away, and dismount to investigate on foot. A zweihander is drawn -- from the being's side, to note, and handled as easily as someone would handle a mere longsword. Dismounted from the bird, Nythius might be able to see the rider more easily. The being is large, though still within human size range. The face might be visible underneath that beaked helm, the lower half of a dark-skinned man's face visible there. He doesn't seem overly hostile... but very much on-edge.

    Duncan nears the campsite, curiously. He doesn't see Nythius, no... but he can sense her. His sense for Darkness isn't honed enough to be able to give him an exact location for her, or even what she is. But Darkness calls to Darkness, and his own senses the presence of someone else's.

    Nythius might also sense it now that he's closer -- magic. Not to the same level as she, of course. This is no Esper. This is a human, one who knows magic. Naturally. There is no scent of steam, or coal, or unknown magical chemicals; his magic does not have that 'wrong', 'ill-fitting' feeling of magic given via draining an Esper and injecting the fluids into a person. It's natural, learned magic, from a human with natural magical talent.

    And it is Darkness and Fire.

    Is this girl snarling? Hot damn, this willowy length of girl with the massive crown of black wings is //snarling//. You bet your bippy she senses darkness but but that's not enough to make her all 'kumbaya'-ish and welcoming of this intruder. This COULD be a soldier, infused with //her// magic. This could be---

    ...holy crap that's a big dude. With a sword. Dismounting.. damnit can't she just cook her bunbuns in peace? A knight? Shit, knights are scary too. Nythius' wings flare, rise further over her body... make her look bigger. Long inky strands of hair begin to quiver at the ends, dancing and swaying around her taut form. Not only is this a like-force of Darkness but it's paired with flame. Flame //hurts// her. It FEELS natural but that is no consolation.. not to a fugitive.

    "Who goes there!" Hollars the Esper woman, eyes glowing in the growing shadows. "Halt! Do not come closer! If you seek to hurt me, I will attack!" Nythius screams, sounding hysterical.

    Duncan freezes at the voice, and sees the glowing eyes. He does raise his sword, though it's in a defensive posture. The voice, however, gives him pause. That's panic, not aggression. "Are you...?" He trails off -- 'are you human' isn't exactly correct to ask anymore, not with all these worlds being stitched together. There are so many things out there that aren't human but are still no threat to the innocent.

    So instead he faces those glowing eyes and asks, "Are you... here to hurt anyone?" Duncan really isn't wanting to hurt someone... but he can tell from the look of the carcasses on the fire that they're not people. They're small game animals. So, for now, Duncan is remaining... well, as 'non-threatening' as a fully-armored guy that big, carrying a zweihander, and carrying around that kind of darkness inside of him, can possibly be.

    "I am here to eat!" Nythius yelps... well, that's answer! A simple one! She just wants rabbit stew...! Her cried words sound earnest enough... "I wish not to harm a soul!" There is a 'clipped' quality to her words; something that speaks of one who is not a typical user of the 'Common' language. This is Nythius' 'second' language, and she is good enough at it to make sense. THe fire crackles in it's omniscient way, the minimal fat of the lean woodland creatures dripping into the flames, causing tiny 'bursts'. Whatever Nythius has going here, it smells great.

    Duncan still looks terrifying. Nythius now focuses upon what she //feels// and notes that darkness.... she is forthright enough to yell: "What are you? You wield shadows! What are you? Will you hurt me?"

    And, well... she's not eating people. So Duncan can't find any fault with this line of reasoning. His eyes flick to the fire, where the bursts of sizzling happen -- just to make sure she's not planning something with the fire. And really, she does sound absolutely terrified. Duncan notes this, and sheathes his sword. He looks a deal less intimidating with six and a half feet of metal not pointing at her, no doubt.

    He visibly winces at that question, though. "I will not hurt you, so long as you do not give me a reason to," he notes evenly, raising his hands to show that they're empty now. "I am merely on patrol for monsters, and saw your camp. If you are not a monster, I have no reason to harm you."

    No people here! Just bunbuns! Nothing to write home about, honest! Nythius hears the sheathing of the blade and already, her posturing... lessens. Wings lower, she no longer strains her way into the shadows. Nythius' exhaled breath of relief can perhaps be heard and felt. The winds of magic may very well be 'felt' shifting with her mood: the crescendo of power, brought on by panic, calms. Somewhat.

    Speaking of no harm being meant further stymies those forces... eventually it becomes a subtle, pounding thing; like a heartbeat. Nythius' proclivity for Ice magic isn't quite as easy to sense as her ongoing rapport with shadow magic. "W-who are you...? Are you a soldier? Whyfor do you patrol? Is your kingdom closeby?" ... kingdom?

    Duncan doesn't sense it quite so much as Nythius, but he does sense the 'pulse' of magic calming somewhat, from the frenetic beat to something more calm and subdued. He relaxes a little too -- it feels less like there's someone about to drop a magical nuke on his head. Which does wonders for putting him at ease.

    The question of his 'kingdom' nearby gets a bit of a frown. "Perhaps it once was. But no more," he notes. He comes from an era of kings and queens, after all. Here his voice takes on a bit of a wry, teasing flavor as he offers, "I'll not bother you with my problems on such short acquaintence, though. Suffice to say this world is dangerous. It would be better were you to go to another." As if it's just that easy. Though, perhaps it is, since he offers, "I can guide you to a Vine in the morning, if you wish."

    And here he removes his helmet, finally. So there's a human face under the scary bird-face helm! "Forgive me... my name is Duncan," he offers, by way of introduction, bowing politely.

@emit 
    Calm, calm.. bit by bit the nasty cloud of killify magic (though Duncan has a massive probabiltiy of surviving it, surely) ebbs. Now there's the crackling fire, the smell of cooking fare, and the woman's harried breaths. With every increment of Duncan's defenses easing, so too does Nythius' aggression wane. When the ghastly helm is removed. That does it.

    He is human. A big human, a scary human.. but not a monster of the pit, as he originally appeared.

    "Come closer so that I may see you. I will not be escorted out of this world b-by one whom I cannot see..." Nythius bids, and finally she steps forth... still ignoring the roasting wildlife over her campfire. Glacial blue-gray eyes are trained upon Duncan... wings snap closed, behind her body. "Duncan... what world is this, Duncan? I arrived here this.... this morniing..." Her tightly folded arms drop from her bosom. Now she resembles a mere moonpale girl with pointed ears, shabby clothes, amazing wings. He could snap her in half. "I am... Nythius." A weird name.

    'Weird' is relative. Particularly to someone who's already experienced the world outside his own. But yes. As she requests he come nearer the fire, Duncan does so, his head bowed in both greeting and apology. The latter of which he expresses with, "My apologies for startling you." He straightens... and blinks. The wings catch his attention first -- she's definitely not human. But he's met animals that talk and walk on two legs; he's not bothered by the fact that she has wings.

    "This world is... one that is in turmoil," Duncan replies. "Like many. Here, the King of Baron seems to have gone insane. He has ordered strikes against innocent people, and I myself was hypnotized and made to attack a former friend. I am no longer under that spell," he pauses to assure her. "You may be targeted by the King of Baron for your... unique features -- unique to this world, of course."

    Wings are vanilla in this world; at a glance Nythius is underwhelming. Ethereal, but completely commonplace. In a compilation where some glow, and take many forms, and have the power to dash worlds.... Nythius is //basic//. But with how those piercing eyes stare and how that hair continues to quiver without the aide of wind, she holds her own. The aura of magic is a //constant// around her: deep, timeless, restful elementals that can be fearsome when stirred but in her case? Do //not// want to be seen as evil.

    "T'is ok..." Nythius whispers, gestures, "Come, come." She needs to know precisely what he looks like. "Are you alone? I heard another." Yeah, Nemesis... that WARK from earlier.

    Tentatively, ".. a-are.. you hungry....?"

    When Nythius seems to invite him cloer to the fire, Duncan approaches, seating himself non-threateningly, placing his helmet down on the ground next to him. The question of his hunger gets a blink. "I have rations. I would not wish to deprive you of food. You caught them fairly," he replies.

    And then there's mention of 'another'. "Oh, yes." He stands, leaving the helmet on the ground, and whistles. The 'WARK!' is heard again, and into the circle of firelight charges that pale bird, stopping a few inches from Duncan, and somehow managing miraculously not to throw dirt into the fire.

    This is no gentle, derpy-looking thing, no. This is a lean, mean, running machine. Its beak is longer than a chocobo from Nythius's world, shaped less like an oversized chickadee's and more like a bird of prey. It looks like it could swallow a small dog with ease. And it doesn't help that its eyes are BLOOD RED! Despite the glare, however, Duncan pets the great bird like one might do a beloved animal companion.

    Seems the slender girl recalls the derpy, contented chocobos of her world. This is //not// the case. She stares hard at the white chocobo with eyes as red as blood. She watches the rapport of Duncan and Nemesis, and this is further reassurance. "I caught this earlier.. I do not need much and I was taught never to waste." She explains, easing closer to the campfire. She notices the skinned bodies blackening faster than she would like and in one fell swoop, Nythius pulls the supine carcasses from the spit and begins to carve them up with a dull knife. Steam rises from the cooked meat. "What is this Kingdom of Baron? Are they tied to the Imperium of Vector?" Whut? Nythius looks visibly frightened at the mere mention. "A-am I close to... to Vector..?" There's that fear again.

    Nythius stares at the bird... and the bird stares back! More like glares back! Scary bird! But Duncan appears to have it on a leash, figuratively speaking, so at least it's not going to instantly attack! In fact, when Duncan sits again the bird settles at his side without further complaint.

    The offer of sharing is given again, and Duncan, not wanting to be rude, nods. "I will take some after you have gotten your share," he decides. "That way it is not wasted, but neither am I taking from your supplies." It's a good compromise.

    He blinks a little at the question though. "I have never heard of Vector," he notes. Which is probably music to Nythius's ears -- that means she's far enough away that no one has ever heard of the place! "You have recently come from your world, then?" he inquires. "There may be... things that need to be explained. It is very possible that you are no longer in your own world. You have crossed over into another, via a 'Vine', into another world that is connected to the 'World Tree'. I will try to explain what I can..."