Chapter One:
That's everything. Is that everything? Am I sure that's everything? I forget so many things whenever I pack for journeys, yes I think that's everything. Even having just convinced herself that she had everything, she began to double check the contents of her bag. Yes, that was everything. Finally, a trip where she wouldn't be forgetting something. She slung the bag over one shoulder and started off out of the pale grey room. As she passed by her mirror on the way out, she stopped to examine her reflection. At the moment she looked like a frazzle haired bookworm, white Blondie hair stuck out at odd angles and foofed out in others. She scoffed at herself and set the bag on the floor, determined to take just long enough to pick up her brush and smooth the wild untamed locks back into submission. She dusted off her clothing and threw back her shoulders to get a good look at herself. She smiled and ran over the finer points of her appearance. Her hair had always been a source of pride for her, long and white Blondie, generally tucked safely behind her gently sloping ears, or put up eloquently with sticks or pins. Her eyes were round and blue, and shone out of her pale face like sapphires. She adjusted the tight leather top she had bought shortly before agreeing to go on this little adventure with her dear friend. He had coaxed her into buying an outfit that would "weather the journey," a soft leather top that gathered her chest and made it quite apparent, that went with a pair of slick leather pants; the sort that were rolled up and hemmed a little below the knee. To make herself feel less like she was parading around in her underclothes she had indulged herself in a pair of lace-up boots to match the whole ensemble. So now, with her hair tamed and tucked back, she picked up her bag again and headed out of the room.
She had spent the better part of 16 years of her life in and out of towers and libraries with various and sundry scholars and mages and enchanters to learn everything from reading to art to magics, and only now after years of it, and quite a long break from it, did they deem her worthy enough to be called by the name people had for her. They would call her an enchantress, although the impatient friend with whom she was partaking of this journey with called her Shiirai. The same friend who was waiting annoyed at the base of the stairs that led from her home to the street with an all too familiar look on his face, a half effort scowl. He glowered up at her balefully with little effort, with eyes that matched her own, his hair an untidy mess of golden brown curls. "I told you to be ready when I got here so we could get on with it. You weren't even packed were you Shiirai?" She frowned savagely at him and rested a thin hand on her hip, letting one leg bend so that her hip jutted out oddly, the posture all women took up when they were about to grumble moodily or snap at someone. "I'll have you know, Jeremiah, that I was packed, but a girl has a right to make sure she's got everything. Honestly, you humans are so impatient. I'm beginning to think it's a defect in your blood." He rolled his eyes at her and languidly pushed himself off the railing of the staircase, but before they could exit her house, he had to track down his own bag.
There was a chill breeze in the air still, it was early enough in the city. The sun had barely begun to shade the sky pink with its warming rays, much less touch ground, so as to melt the ice that made the frail grass crunch underfoot. She shivered heavily and pulled her fluffy cloak tighter around her shoulders, silently cursing Jeremiah for wanting to take off so early in the day. At least he had had the decency to refrain from suggesting that they leave behind animal transportation. That she would have bandied him about the head with her sack for, she imagined. Halfway to the stable that her family kept their animals in, she handed over her bag to her friend, pulled up the hem of her cloak and sprinted to the doorway. She pried open the heavy doors and meandered inside where it was warm. There were all manner of unique and spirited animals inside, horses and cows and birds and bigger birds, birds that you could ride easily with no issue. One of these birds was hers, the only one of his kind that her family owned. He had the long eloquent neck and head of a peacock, complete with the shimmering blue green feathers and soft plumes from the top of his head, however, his body was well off the floor, on long ostrich like legs. His body was wide through the shoulders and went back to become much like a horses', with minor differences, one being that never did his plumage change to fur and he retained a peacocks' long flowing tail of feathers. His feet never became hooves; they kept themselves as the clawed and flat feet of a running bird.
He beat his wings noisily against his sides, long wings not made for flying that swept back to near his rear, and pulled himself up on his back legs, that did bend like a horses' as opposed to a birds'. She shushed him with a finger against his beak and smiled before she brought him out of his stall with very little coaxing, the promise of being ridden enough to excite and entice him out. She laid a plush sheepskin blanket over his back and fixed a lightweight saddle on him. It was long stated that these animals were most definitely a woman's animal, as they were not so sturdy as to be used as pack mules or war mounts. She fixed him with a sort of muzzle that wrapped around his head, but did not block his eyes, nor shut his mouth, and managed herself up onto his back. She lightly tapped the reins against the base of his neck to get him started out of the stable.
He walked out easily and came up alongside Jeremiah's horse gracefully. He had been trained around other, larger animals, and their presence didn't bother him in the least, despite that Jeremiah's horse stood a good foot taller at the shoulder than the exotic hippogriff. She turned in the saddle and let the reins fall to his neck, often considered a risky move with an untrained animal, but the hippogriff stood stock still while she tied her pack tightly the back of the saddle. Pack and strapped down, ready to go, they set off from the High City towards the wilderness. She was not looking forward the first leg of the journey, considering their first planned stop was in the thick and putrid swamp of the region, a place that harbored goblins, trolls and the undead in its murk.
Her only complaint on this trip thus far would have had to been that you could smell the swamp miles before you were actually into it. For an hour and a half before they ever set foot into marshy terrain there was the smell of death and decay wafting from between the ever blackening, gnarling trees that they were winding their animals through. She curled a lip at the first footfall that elicited a squelch form under horse hoof, both animals backtracked the minute they heard the noise and stared down at the ground skeptically. Jeremiah had quite a bit of coaxing to do before his horse would even consider stepping foot into again, and it only got wetter and worse the farther they went. The swamp proper came up to the animal's knees and half the time they were side stepping to get away from plant life beneath the surface that grabbed and tangled around their legs, which impeded movement and making them paranoid and spooked. The other half they were trying desperately to pull their feet from the muck that sufficed for ground where trees were sprouting. There was a myriad of poisonous looking fungi and plant life coming up, which apparently thrived off the murk that was dubbed water. " It's beyond me how anything useful can grow here," she stated, almost with a lace of disgust in her voice. "Some of the most valuable ingredients for healing elixirs and potions grow here. This swamp, despite it's bad smell and nefarious reputation for claiming all sorts of wildlife and adventurers, has very rich soil." Of course it does. Places where things incessantly DIE always have nice rich fertile soil. It figures. " Mm, lovely," was all she managed.
It would have been difficult to tell when it was nightfall, had it not been for the sudden and loud cries of strange animals and insects that started up the moment the sun went down. She all but blurted out "oh thank heavens" when Jeremiah announced that they could stop for the night. They picked the least marshy hill they could find to clamber off their animals and tied them up to a nearby tree that wasn't falling apart due to decay. She set about to collect wood to start a fire, which turned out to be a unique task, considering most of it was driftwood and was half soaked to the core, not good for burning, whilst Jeremiah set up camp. Once she was satisfied with the amount she had collected she made her way back to where her roguish friend was sitting, bored rolling a coin about on the back of his fingers as he waited for her. She handed off the wood to him, her expression bemused as she watched him set them up in a little tepee sort of formation. He sat back on his log and looked to her expectantly. "What?" "Well...make with the flames." She rolled her eyes and sat up, clapping her hands together. Shiirai rubbed her hands together as quickly as she could, causing her palms to spark and crackle loudly, the sound interrupting the dead silence that had permeated the swamp. She worried privately in the back of her mind as to whether it was so smart for her to be doing that, as she had no idea what sorts of swamp denizens would be called forth by the sound.
After a few more seconds of rubbing and snapping and popping and crackling, her hands emitted a bright blaze of yellow lightning, which pulsed and snapped as it threatened to leap from her palms at any moment. She let it fall noisily into the center of the tepee, where it snapped loudly one last time and sent the wood up in a lovely little blaze of flame. "Thank you." He said, as though he had been waiting all day for her to get around to actually starting the fire. She sneered sarcastically at him and sat back against her log, watching as the flames flickered and danced across the wood before her, their dark black trails left in the wakes.