This Cruel yet Kind World. ( OneXOne With Sincerely Me )

[xXRassBerriXx]

This Cruel yet Kind World






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Information


Pairing

Male x Female /or/ Male x Male

Mage x Other ( Be what you would like~ )

Genres: Medieval, fantasy, action, drama, magic, monsters, romance.

Side note: Curse's full character profile-- https://www.rpnation.com/threads/curse-pevman.115762/

Another new one, so once again I am up for suggestions!


Introduction


Most everyone has heard the name Curse at some point. The odd, active mage of royalty of resides within Katharotitta. He is said to be a rather mean, uncaring man. Most people feel intimidated by him, and so they often tend to stray away from his presence unless they desire his help. However, the case is very different for you. Rather than fear Curse, you admire him. For years now he has been your role model, and you treasure the idea of coming to meet him one day. Not many people value an idea like this, most others want to meet either his mother or his brother for those two are rumored to be far kinder. Yet, there is merely something about this man which has managed to capture your attention. Perhaps his harsh past, his past, his oddity? Whatever it may be is not something which you know, but that doesn't bother you too badly. You simply know that you want to meet him, why try to complicate it? This however, was a dream that felt so far... He was noble, and one that moved around so much that he was hardly trackable. You didn't think you would ever get to meet him, that just seemed a bit too lucky. So, you lived with this hopeful dream, unaware even as it became closer and closer to coming true.

It was a cool morning. The dew clung to tiny blades of grass, and a gentle breeze passed through the forest carrying with it leaves and the fresh smell of rosemary. The sun had just barely risen from it's bed behind the mountain tops, and yet already you had risen. Someone within your village had requested that you go out and collect a few herbs for her. The woman was an old one who had a bad hip, so she couldn't move around much at all. You accepted, so you now find yourself deep within the woods, a woven basket in your hands filled with little leaves. You were just about to pick another leaf from the ground, but a tiny voice caught you off guard.

"H-hey!"

It was a girl's, you could tell that much easily. You looked up from the ground to spot a child much younger than yourself. Her black hair was rather messy, her green eyes teary as if she had just been crying. The ends of her plain white dress were muddy, and just a little torn. She quickly ran up to you, suddenly throwing her arms around your waist as she cried.

"Help! I-I went to the old mansion in the woods... I thought lavender grew there!"

The old mansion was something which was spoken off often in your village. A woman who was referred to as the Doll Maker resided there. It was rumored that she was a witch, one who took to the grotesque practice of turning people into dolls. She called it stitching eternal beauty, and she would only target those who are quite nice to look at. She was but a mere rumor however, for no person has ever returned from the interior of that mansion, at least not alive. So, how was it that this child managed to get away?

Almost as if she had heard your silent question, she looked up at you and whimpered, "A-a man came to help me... I met the Doll Maker, and... she was going to use me, until he came! She was going to c...cut me open, but he got in her way. He told me to run, and said he would be out within an hour, but he hasn't come out yet! Please help, I think he's hurt!"

The child was piratically bawling at this point, clutching onto the back of your clothing tightly before burying her face into your stomach once again. She was shivering, body quivering which each and every sob she produced... Something was telling you to accept. You felt obligated to help, as if you had no choice. Somehow, you were being drawn to this small task, and so you accepted. You sent the girl back in the direction of the home, before your sites drifted back to the home of the Doll Maker. This was certainly a scary task, no one was ever said to return from there after all... Why did you want to help so badly? You contemplated heading back, but your feet seemed to move without your permission. Already, you had begun your way to the mansion.

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It wasn't even an hour later before you stood in front of those broken doors of wood, towering over you. Already, they were opened, displaying a dirtied and dusty hallway. The marble floors were cracked, and rubble littered it. Most every window had been opened up, allowing sunlight inside and walls of plant life. You were here, no longer could you turn back. You tried to strengthen yourself as you made your way down this uninviting hallway... until you spotted a small splatter of blood upon the ground ahead of you. This caused you to freeze in your steps.

Across this little mess off blood was an opened door, one which looked to be a little too inviting. You could hear something, a shallow and pained breathing. Only a second later, the voice of a woman echoed through the halls, coming from within that room.

"My, I never thought I would fetch royalty out in a place like this! You're just as handsome in person as you in rumor... I can't wait to carve you up~! You must be feeling pretty tired, right? That blade, I've coated it with a little something. You won't be able to use your silly magic for a few hours now. You won't even be able to move! There isn't a thing you can do, so just sit still and behave... It'll be over soon enough, Curse.

​

 

[xXRassBerriXx]

Just how did it end up like this? Curse, the intimidating, powerful mage now found himself in quite a situation. It was one he had not been anticipating, one which he thought he could avoid with ease. He was strong, and yet it seemed his confidence had betrayed him this day. Now, the mage sat near complete helplessness upon worn, broken floors carved from oak. An uncomfortable wall pressed up into his back, the only thing which kept him sitting upright. He could move not a muscle. It felt as if metal had come to fill his veins, the study and weighted metal keeping his limbs immobile. In reality, what kept him in such a position was a powerful poison. It wasn't something which was life-threatening alone, for it was only a temporary paralyzer. What made his current situation deadly was the woman who now stood before him.


With cold green eyes, and long silver hair, the witch stared down at him. In her right hand was a steel sword, it's blade painted by a thick crimson substance, one only identifiable as blood. The source of this blood was a long and somewhat deep gash along Curse's right side. It was that blade which had poisoned him, the single slice which had rended him as helpless as he currently was. He couldn't access even his magic, for it too had been locked away by a deep numbness. This left him without any way to defend himself, and without an escape. He hated to think that this may be the time of his death, but the possibility was not something he could deny. If only he could escape for just a bit.


Outside, almost a mile away was Curse's camp. That was where he had left his steed and current companion, Tikbalabg, a young shape-shifter who Curse treated like a younger brother, despite the beast being much older than he. If anything, he wanted to live in order to stay by that beast's side. Tikbalabg would be alone without him, and never would he want to force such a pain upon one of the few people he actually treasures, and so, he was begging for escape. Inside his head he wished, and he hoped, wanting something to come by to save him. This just couldn't be where he died, he refused to accept such a cruel and sudden death.


"Are you ready, Curse?" the Doll Maker spoke before him as she knelt down to his height. She lifted her sword, pressing the tip against the mage's chest in a taunting manner. "I'll cut you open, and stuff you all up. You'll make quite quite the handsome doll. I simply can't wait to add you to my collection!" She added just a bit more pressure into her blade, causing the sharpened weapon to break skin. While this cut was far from something fatal, it still did cause a small hiss of pain to escape the weakened mage. "S-stop," he muttered, finding it hard even to speak. "I... I won't let you..."

 

[Sincerely Me]

Once again Anyaliae found herself in a foreign place with no clue about the current situation and no real idea how she got there. Between trying to remember if she recognized the little girl with the dark hair and green eyes, and questioning whether or not the tales of the dollmaker were really real or just some hoax, and wondering how Mrs. Merryweather was faring with her bad hip and the chill weather, and not to mention that it was funny the girl thought she could get lavender sprigs near the old mansion... yeah, it was no understatement that the young half-elf's mind had only just caught up to the real reason why she was ther- here.. standing smack middle in this dilapidated crumbly hallway, a pool of blood at my back, listening to some maniac talking about a curse. Anya muttered darkly to herself, not even sure she heard everything right. Come to think about it, that voice might as well belong to the dollmaker.


Anya stood rooted to the spot, her amber orbs squinting at the half open doorway as if she could see past the speckled shadows and into the next room. Truth be told, she was afraid. Very afraid. One did not grow up within her village without knowing someone who hadn't gone missing in the vicinity of the dollmaker's mansion. Her mind screamed at her to just turn around and put as much distance between herself and the desecrated mansion; but her heart would not follow. Her knuckles were bone-white and were starting to hurt before she realized that she was gripping her gathering sickle so tightly the gilded handle pressed painfully into the soft palms of her hand. Taking a deep breath to steel her nerves (which barely helped), Anya tip-toed towards the opening. Spotting a jagged piece of rock, which at one point was probably a part of the building, she retrieved it and hefted its weight. Well... at least it was something. She doubted her small sickle would be much of a weapon but gripped it in her other hand anyway. As quietly as she could, the half-elf slipped through the portal.


The sight before her brought an involuntary gasp to the girl's lips, but she managed to stifle it just in time. She couldn't make out the face of the silver-haired lady but from the way she stood ready to run her blade through the young man on the ground, Anya knew she had little time to act. Without a moments thought, she cried out, just so she could distract the witch.


"HEY!!!!! I've got something for you > !" Anya really had no idea what she was doing or saying. She just knew she had to do something. Bringing her arm back, she snapped it forwards with practiced ease, slinging the rock aimed straight for the woman's head. If the rock hit however, it wouldn't be fast enough to kill. Killing another human wasn't something that came naturally to her afterall.

 

[xXRassBerriXx]

Noise? Curse's dulled gaze shifted from the woman in front of him, after having heard the sudden eruption of an unfamiliar shout. Who was that? Why would anyone come into this horrible place? He failed to comprehend what anyone would be doing in here, but he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps his wish had been heard. Was he really going to be saved? A bit of relief crossed his face at that thought, while pain was still very clear in his eyes. Still, he couldn't bring himself to even move his fingers. Defenseless and weak, the mage had not choice but to rely on this unfamiliar woman who had just arrived. Despite the small blue which was present in his gaze, he managed to make out the features of this newcomer. Hazel hair, dark eyes, even the pointed ears which remained on either side of her head. Unlike most people, the presence of what he assumed was an elf didn't bug him. His own companion, Tikbalabg was seen to be an abomination after all, to hate upon an elf due to her heritage would mean he would do the same to Tikbalabg. Equality of the races, this was something which Curse believed in.


However, he got to stare for only a moment before something else caught his attention. A stone, the elg had thrown it into the air straight towards the DollMaker. It was clear that the woman too had turned her head in response to the shout, and the result of this was her seeing the stone the moment it was thrown. Yet, she failed to dodge it. Despite all the time she was given to move, she decided to take that time to try striking down the mage. She had risen her blade into the air, prepared to slash him straight across the chest, but before she could do a thing that stone had already made collision with her head. She hissed in pain, accidentally dropping her blade into Curse's lap as her hand flew up to the new penetration on the side of her head. A maroon color was coming to stain a patch of her ivory hair, suggesting the rock had broken skin. However, it wasn't enough to down her. She seemed to only grow annoyed instead, opening her eyes with a certain flare of fury visible within them.


"Damned human," she growled, raising the palm of her hand in the direction of the elf. A light crossed her gaze, one which Curse caught sight of easily. He knew what she was about to do, and amazingly he managed to push himself onto his feet. That light had summoned a gust of air to the woman's palm, an invisible blade traveling towards the elf ever so quickly, but Curse wouldn't allow this person to be hurt. No, he was the royal mage. It was his job to protect, even at the cost of his own well being.


He pushed himself away from the wall, stumbling over in front of the elf as quickly as he could. A little ungracefully he fell onto is knees the moment he was in the air's path, raising his own hand in defense. The ground in front of him cracked, stems of vines growing from those tiny holes in the floor and growing into a small wall in front of himself and the elf, but this wasn't enough. The vines were split in half by the incoming blade, but refusing to give up Curse through himself into a stand, stumbling back to be in front of the elf before a long cut was formed along his chest. He yelped in pain, falling forth on shaky legs once again and clutching the broken fabric of his shirt, just as blood came to stain the fabric.

 

[Sincerely Me]

Well... she's angry now... The thought flitted across the half-elf's mind even as the dollmaker turned her attention towards her. She had thought the projectile she had flung would've done more damage than simply ruffling the feathers of the clearly mad lady (if she could even by considered a human). The dollmaker raised her palm towards her, as Anya stood rooted to the spot, fear and bewilderment freezing the girl into inaction; not fully recognizing the danger of the magic that was directed at her. Somewhere in a small corner of her mind, she screamed at her limbs to move but as if held in a thrall, she simply could not move. Helpless, Anya waited for the moment of her death to come as the light from the Dollmaker's palm seemed to grow brighter before a deadly gust of wind streaked towards her.


Would it hurt? Uncle... did it hurt?


The moment seemed to last longer than it should, but the girl was certain it would be over very soon. But just at the last second, a blur of colour and movement flung itself between her and certain death. It was him! Anya had no idea where he had summoned the strength but all of a sudden there was a wall of vines between them at the dollmaker. Anya gasped as the barrier seemed to hold up for a moment before the slicing blade of air tore through the center and hit the young mage across his chest. But he had bought them enough time as Anya snapped out of her inactivity.


"NO!" Anya cried reaching out as the man stumbled to his knees from his injury. He was a full head taller than her but she did her best to steady him. There was blood all over his shirt and Anya feared to guess how badly he was wounded. A quick look into his blue eyes (?) and the practiced apothecary recognized the effects of some sort of numbing poison. The young mage was their only hope, as Anya really had no idea how she could stand up against the Dollmaker who clearly had deadly magic.


"I'm sorry..." She wasn't sure why she apologized, but she did anyway. Anya was crouched by his side, steadying him. A nagging at the nape of her neck a constant reminder that the Dollmaker was still an ever present threat. She fumbled with her pouch that always held emergency supplies until she found the tiny bottle of Banderweed extract. Used as a last resort, Banderweed floods the body with a sudden burst of borrowed energy, heightening all other senses but temporarily numbing pain. However, its effects were temporary and the person would soon fall into a very deep sleep or become comatose; or worse yet... death.


"It's Banderweed" She wasn't sure what good that information would do, especially if the mage had no knowledge of herbology. She unscrewed the cap and pressed the bottle to his lips, but she hesitated at the last moment. What if he died? Even if he managed to defeat the Dollmaker, but died in the process... I don't know if I can live with that...


Anya's amber eyes stared into the mage's own. Did he want this? Did he have any other ideas? Last bits of strength?

 

[xXRassBerriXx]

Feeling the elf's hands upon him, trying to steady him the mage peered over his shoulder. His hazy eyes examined her with clear curiosity. Still he wondered just who this girl was, and why she was here. No one would come to this mansion without a reason, even then they may refused to step foot in this terrible place. At least, that was what he had been told before coming to the old mansion. He didn't think anyone would be coming in after him, that the little girl would have gone off to help him. Curse wasn't used to being looked after by anyone other than Tikbalabg anymore, and as a result he expected so little from strangers. He didn't know, and he didn't understand, but the feeling of a small glass being pressed lightly against his lips pulled him out of his thoughts.


"Hm?" Curse glanced down towards the vial, looking it over with curiosity. His hand still clutched onto the front of his shirt with a powerful, tight grip, the pain of the wound granting him enough power over the numbness to do at least that much. However, he wouldn't be able to move around again like he had done moments before. He wouldn't even be able to stand on his own without any help, and if it were not for the hands keeping him steady, he assumed he would have fallen over by now. Truly, Curse did desire power at this moment, anything to help him get past this powerful potion and back on his feet once more. He would do most anything, as long as it opened up a new chance for his victory. He didn't have much going for him right now, after all... If he didn't find that something soon, both himself and this elf would probably end up on display in this grotesque home.


It was then, that he learned of just what this potion was. Luckily for the other, Curse had heard of Banderweed before. During his time in the castle, it was something which the soldiers were often given before heading out into battle, to ensure that they would give their all. This also meant that he knew the risks of accepting this potion from her, but didn't care for them. As long as he won, he knew he would find some way to pull through. At the moment, this potion seemed to be his only option. He waited for her to grant him with it, but never did that small vial tilt. It gave him nothing, except for a view ahead at the DollMaker who already seemed ready to fight once again.





"Foolish mage," she hissed with her tone of venom, arms crossed over her chest. "Just what was the point of that? You know you can't beat me in your state... You've only managed to scar yourself up. Oh dear, it's going to be hard to patch you up now, not doll of mine should ever have such an ugly scar!" She walked towards the pair, ready to take the mage back into her possession and kill this newcomer, however a few steps away she paused. Her green eyes remained on this elven girl, before a small smile of satisfaction crossed her lips.





"An elf? My, I've never seen an elf before! Nonetheless, one as beautiful as yourself! How would you like to join the mage? I would love to add you to my collection," the woman taunted, causing Curse to squirm a bit in the other's arms. He was trying to take the Bamberweed, wanting to recover before it was too late. This woman could easily kill them both with a snap of her fingers if they were not prepared, and so helplessly Curse tried to move his heavy limbs and take the small vial into his own possession.





"P-potion," he murmured weakly, wanting to inform the elf that he was willing to take it, even with its risks. It was becoming much harder to even speak, and so he spoke only a small fragment of what had been a full thought. "Give... P-please. I'll fight," he spoke once more. His blue eyes gazed back upon her, plea laced into their bright cyan coloring.

 

[Sincerely Me]

She barely caught the whispered murmur that passed from between his bloodied lips, but somehow or perhaps it was the sound of his voice, it broke the paralyzing indecision that plagued Anya. Gently but urgently, she tipped the bitter dark liquid into the mage's mouth until the bottle was emptied. A trickle of the potion caught on the side of his lip and the elf used a pale finger to wipe it away. Satisfied, she took one last look into his azure eyes and stood up, turning to face the witch. She had to delay her somehow, if only for a moment. Grimly, she drew the small sickle from her side.


"Thanks for the offer, Dollmaker... but no thanks!" With that, Anya charged at the witch.


Caught by surprise at the elf's audacity, the witch was unable to cast a spell in time before Anya was upon her. But even then, it wasn't enough. With unexpected swiftness and strength, the witch swiped at the half-elf girl with her long nailed hands. The backhand sent the girl spinning to the rubble strewn grown, the sickle flying from her grip to clatter beside her. Winded, and with crimson liquid trickling down from a cut on her temple, Anya tried to drag herself to stand but her vision swam and she fell back painfully to her knees.


"No..."