Magick. Everywhere. But weird. Wrong. What the hell is going on?

Rjar curled his fingers into his palms; trying his best keep the spark of power contained. After all, who knew what would happen if he tried to cast again? Two nights ago, he had communed with the darkness, and called their aid in the hunt. But when the shadow of the night reached into the forest to pluck a rabbit from its life for his consumption, the strangest thing happened. Nothing.

Yes, the shadows shifted like they always do, and yes, he felt his intention move into the night, but nothing else happened. Well, not along the lines of the hunt. Instead, a spectre appeared. Not a fun, clawed, devourer of spirits kind of a spectre. A badger. A spectral badger. How mystical.

He had moved from town to town initially trying to figure out if it was just his magick, or if it was another flick of the wrist from the gods. It was something closer to the latter. But, despite his charms, he was not able to find the exact reasoning behind it; only a list of places that were being affected the most, and the results that some people had found therein. Though he was sure that the angry badger floating over his shoulder did not help his sales pitch.

That was how he ended up making his way to Sidhiel. The place of the High-Elves. And pure magick. At least that’s what the Elves thought. They were always a little too self involved and pious for Rjar’s tastes. Which was really saying something considering the way in which the dark witch lived his life.

There were a large amount of people in the town- a fact that the high-snob-elves surely were not happy about. But, it meant that he would be able to blend in a bit more than he had recently. Especially since a few of them had their own unwelcomed companions. Though their little sparkly friends seemed a bit more on the nose; butterflies, wolves, even a bear. And a badger.

As he moved through town, he could not help but to admit that the air was electric. There was a dense magick in this area that intrigued him. It wasn’t necessarily the brand of magick that he generally preferred, but any magick could be made dark by the right hand. Er… left hand.

He felt the familiar brightness of his smile touch his lips as he passed people in the streets on his way to an inn, or a tavern. Any place with alcohol. They seemed to trust him, as most people did when they didn’t have time to feel out his magick. They would be easy targets if he ended up needing them. A lot of them were merchants. He was sure they had to have something fun on them. Even if it was just an unbroken sternum in their chest; they were good from protection spells. Ironically.

Before he knew it, he was passing the threshold to the tavern; easily tricking the few wards that had been placed here and there into believing he was nothing more than a caster inflicted with a magickal irregularity and taking a seat at the bar.

”May I please get a honey mead? I hear they can be quite delicious in this part of the world,” he asked the barkeep in his pleasant timber. Hopefully if he stayed nice and friendly enough, no one would badger him about his reasoning for being here. No pun intended.

That’s it, I am done dealing with this thing.

That was the only thought going through Zanar’s head as he walked away from the “battlefield”. It was infuriating to him, the god of the wilds, that he couldn’t contain this highly overgrown hare. Not only that, it was gorging itself on the magic enriched Sidhie. All this because Angela could not control her magic from the pregnancy. He did not blame the goddess, but all in all, it was still highly frustrating for anyone who fell victim to her uncontrolled magic.

It also did not help that it was all taking place in Parvpora, where his own powers were weakened!

He walked the streets, heading straight for the tavern. He caught the glimpses of people looking at him. He was a mess, coat torn and tattered and cuts on his face coated with dried up blood. His own tunic was untucked and his sigiled shoulder pad that he normally wore was long gone lost somewhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that the people knew of the rampaging rabbit, they would have thought of him as some beggar and more than likely tossed out of the town. The only thing he hated about high elves were their up stuck attitude anyone else.

You would think that I of all people would have the easiest time with this beast. No, it just had to Angela’s magic flowing through it…so even I can’t calm it down. he thought as he stood in front of the tavern doors. ”And it is also only a damn rabbit!!!“ He yelled out and pushed the doors of the tavern open hard. The patrons sitting near the door jumped up and started to complain to him, but he just turned a deaf ear to their complaints.

He sat down next to a man at the bar and noticed that he was being served a honey mead. ”I’ll take what this gentleman over here is having. And keep the refills coming.” he requested and tossed out a bag of far more than enough silver coins. He then turned around in his stool and rested his back up against the bar top looking out towards the entrance. He tapped his foot impatiently as he tried to figure out how to approach the problem some more. ”This is…so damned annoying!! he said out loud.

Quickly he turned back around when he heard his mug slide across the bar top. Grabbing the mug he started to chug it down. Finished he slammed the mug on the top. He was making a commotion, the stares of people looking over at him every now and then before they went back to their business. The barkeep didn’t seem to mind though, as Zanar had more than paid for his stay. ”Curse your magic Angela. I could have had all this cleaned up if it wasn’t for you!!!” He hissed under his breath. He didn’t really mean it but was what he felt.

”So how do you feel about all this magic, I’m sure it’s different from your usual tastes eh? He said to the man next to him. He wasn’t blind to the aether surrounding the man but didn’t care either.

There was something familiar about the new arrival. Something that resonated silently in his mind. Rjar just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was powerful, that was for sure. And he seemed to have been fighting a good fight fairly recently. As was evident by the faint smell of blood that touched the witches nostrils and invigorated the darkness building up in him. What was he?

The man spun on his chair and spoke aloud, making a bit of a scene. Most people would reacted with an eyeroll, or a scoff - and many people in the general vicinity did just that- but Rjar couldn’t help but to smile. It was nice to see someone not be so serious; especially since most of the people in the area seemed so solemn. It made the man seem a lot more approachable, at least from where Rjar was sitting.

That’s when the man shouted something. Something that clicked everything into place and gave the caster a sudden feeling of dread. Angela. That was who was behind this magickal glitch. Made sense given the severity of the deviation. But it was the way in which he spoke of her, as if they were familiar in some way, that made his heart sink. It was true that pretty much anyone could make their way into a god’s temple and speak with them, but with the amount of power coming off of the man, there was only one conclusion: he was a god.

There had been word of recent ascensions in the small network of witches that he managed to keep in touch with, but in what world would he actually encounter one? Which god was he? What were his powers? Could he see through the facade of light that masked his intentions to so many? Panic edged at his chest as the questions multiplied and his heart began to race. Maybe he could just slip out and escape the situation altogether. It wouldn’t be the first time that he had retreated with his head held high.

Then the god spoke to him directly. It was a friendly conversation starter. Nothing pointed; nothing with an ulterior motive. Just a nice question. There was no avoiding him now.

”It’s rather sweet, but in a good way,” he began with a smile, ”though I do feel as though a side of salty meat would balance the flavor. Meat and honey mead are like two really good friends. Floral and salt. The best of friends,” he said in a quick ramble, with a slight chuckle to his tone.

What the hell was that Rjar? It was just small talk. He was good at it generally, but for some reason all that would come out at the moment was talk about food and flower ramblings. Was he really that nervous to meet a god? Why? They too were children of magick, right?

”May I ask the obvious question?” the witch said after only a moment of awkward -on his part- silence. ”What was going on today that has left you so disheveled?”

Tone, heartbeat and what seemed to be a ramble. They all were signs of nervousness, Zanar had given the man no reason to be nervous about him though. Perhaps he was aware of what Zanar was? Would have been a first for most, usually, no one knew until he gave his name. Smart fellow picked up a few signs eh the god thought to himself as he listened to the man’s answer some more. He slapped the top of the bar and pointed towards his companion. ”I couldn't agree more! Meads are usually not my choice of drink, prefer the heartier taste of ales. But the saltiness of meat could go so perfectly with this.”

The god was about to signal the barkeep to get them both a good meal, then realized that this was a city of high elves, they were not to keen on meats. He hung his head in defeat and let out a sigh. ”Curse elvish cuisine, no offense of course,” making sure that he didn’t offend anyone in earshot. The man then asked him a simple question, one that he didn’t see why he could not answer. Others around were probably just as curious as to why someone would come into a tavern in his current “condition”

”Still going on actually, and the answer is quite simple,” Zanar leaned to speak more in a lower tone of voice, ”A rabbit.” He then sat back up and took down another mug of the mead. He was sure that he had confused the man. He was not lying though, for that is what has been ransacking the outskirts of the town. Placing his mug back down he turned to face the man. ”As you are aware, a god's magic can do some beyond normal things, right? Well, the lady Angela’s magic is rampant due to her child being on the way, and it seemed to have affected this…rabbit…in a way for the worse.”

”it's gorging itself on the essence of life and creation, and at the same time has caused it to become a twisted creature. It is far larger and, as you can see from my being, far more aggressive.” He continued his explanation. Of course, just thinking about the rabbit was starting to get the god frustrated again. ”And of course, since her powers are flowing through it, I can’t do crap! Me the god of beasts!! It’s so frustrating." He did not realize he had let that slip and some of the patrons in earshot just stopped and stared at Zanar.

”Yep that is right my friend, you are sitting with a god who is getting his ass kicked by a rabbit!!"

A rabbit. What? What kind of rabbit could mess anyone up as bad as he appeared to be? Let alone someone with as much magick as was vibrating off of the man. He could not help but to furrow his brow in disbelief; lifting his mead back to his lips. If he was to believe the story that the man began to weave, then he needed to be graced with the calm that came with alcohol; though if he was going to join the battlefield against this beast, since it was apparently still going on, he probably should take it easy… Eh. He can fight drunk.

There it was again, talk of the Goddess Angela. She was pregnant with child, and magick. It stood to reason that the birth of a god spawn could cause such an aberration, but he could not help but to wonder what that meant for magick in the long term. No one really knew what spells were like before the current gods took their thrones; who’s to say that everything wasn’t changed with the god births in the past?

”So it’s a dire rabbit fueled by the power of the Goddess of life?” It wasn’t a question that needed an answer; more of a way for him to expel the disbelief and refocus himself to the presence of the man and the issue as a whole. What kind of havoc could a beast like that wreak? His eyes moved back to his companion. A lot, apparently.

The God of beasts. He, Zanar himself, verified it. Magick threatened to crackle out of the witch in the presence of a verified god. Not necessarily out of fear or in an act of aggression, but simply because he was unsure of how else was he supposed to act? Should he cast and show his worthiness? Should he fall to his knees and honor the god? Or should he leave right away?

”I suppose if any magick could rival the power of a god, it would be another god,” Rjar said, finally deciding to play it cool and try to speak as though he was not on the verge of nervous tears. He tilted his head and smiled his usual smile towards the god; forcing the worry to subside for the time being. ”And to be fair, you did say it was a large rabbit.”

Despite his smile, his thoughts couldn’t help to wonder what his weakness would be in the god’s eyes. He had heard of the god’s ascension and knew his abilities. In all reality, the god could already know exactly where to poke with a dagger to sent him to the afterlife. Rjar was very aware that he was not among the strongest casters in the realm, so he wouldn’t be surprised to find that his weak spot was, well, everywhere.

”I’ve heard tale prowess that you hold above all others in the hunt; the power to find and strike a foes weak point. Does this beast not have such a weakness?”

Yeah Rjar, that’s a great way to play it cool; question the god’s power.

”Indeed, it is the only magic that can rival each other. Some more effective against others of course.” He replied back to his drinking companion. He had seen the aether flow and crack around the man. A nervous reaction more than likely, after all not much people, can say that had sat and drunk with a god casually. He was just thankful that he wasn’t one of those people that just dropped what all they were doing and tried to be proper, he found that more embarrassing than anything. ”Yes indeed. Damn thing has so much strength to it as well.”

He took another drink of his now refilled mead as the man asked his question. Slowly he rested it on the bar top, much different than what he had done before. ”Everything has a weakness…even the gods do.” He was not lying as he would give up his divinity for his family if it came to that point. ”One who relies on magic for everything that they do, Imagine what would happen if someone could strike out the leylines of mana that flow into them? What would happen to them if that weakness was exposed and struck?”

The god himself knew exactly how that felt, it was pain beyond imagining, he had almost died to the torture of that very same variety only to be saved by the woman who he now lived with. He had noticed he had gotten a little dreary with this conversation and chugged back the rest of his drink. That was the past, a past he no longer had to worry about. ”To answer your question, my curious friend, I can not see this creature's weakness, and I am guessing it has to do with Angela’s magic being far superior to my powers. That or it has gorged itself on so much magic that it is causing a blind spot in my vision. And that is what is also infuriating.”

”It is like it is drawn to the goddess. Both malevolent and benevolent, I think the creature can’t handle the magic in it.” He was just spitballing ideas at the moment as he had not true guess as to exactly what it wanted. ”So right now I have had my men and myself retreat until we can think of something on what to do with the creature, cause even though it is on a rampage killing it should be the last resort.” It was then when he heard the cry of a raven. It was sitting there in the window looking right at him.

”This damn thing is still following me?