Of Vultures [Open]

[Obelisk]

The forest had erupted into a cacophony of frantic screams and threatening yells. Then there was silence and it was absolute; the woodland animals dared not make a sound until it was certain that the ruckus had passed. A quiet breath emanated from a shifting shadow tucked within the darkness cast by the moon and the countless bodies of trees. The shadow had heard the song of discord before. Within his mind, he saw clearly the image of a witch cut down by hunters and left to rot.

The crows would be upon the corpse soon and their penchant towards shiny, lustrous objects made them as good as any grave robber. He would have to move quickly, then, as to get first pickings. He moved and his black cloaked writhed behind him like an awful living thing. He was the source of the rumors and myths detailing Brumeveil’s wraith. It ate souls. It preyed upon the fearful, the young, the innocent. It had the head of a bird but the voice of a man. There were small truths layered within outrageous claims, but Emery made no effort to debunk the myths and instead let them grow.

Boots crushed into leaf litter and his steps slowed. There was evidence strewn around the ground of a chase and a struggle. He was close. From behind his ghoulish mask, he examined the lines cut into the soil from shoes. Four thin lines indicated fingers dug into the ground, begging purchase, scrabbling in desperation to get away. His head tilted and so did the mask. He became a curious undead vulture, stark-white skull in direct contrast with the darkness around him. That darkness retreated when Emery lit a small metal and glass lantern.

His eyes followed a path of disturbed ground and there, beneath a thick patch of undergrowth was a hand, pale and unmoving. Emery hung the lantern on a sturdy, outstretched branch. He found it curious that the hunters decided to hide the corpse; this was an anomaly. But as he knelt down and encircled a small wrist with his gloved fingers, he understood. Pulling the corpse out from the bushes confirmed his suspicions. The lifeless face was that of a boy who couldn’t be more than twelve years of age. The hunters still had it within them to feel some measure of guilt and Emery felt a inkling of bleak humor at the human need to run away from regret. Out of sight, out of mind.

The gloves he wore were taloned, an effort to complete his costume, and those nails caught on the fabric of the child’s clothing as he searched. Against his chest and beneath his blood-soaked shirt was an hard and uneven surface. Emery pulled at a silver chain around the boy’s neck and it revealed an amulet with an inset of what appeared to be a precious stone. He did not hesitate. He yanked and the necklace’s chain snapped, relieving the child of his only possession of worth. Emery held the amulet up and examined it in the moonlight, deciding that, if anything, the bauble might fetch a moderate sum at the market.

The vulture pocketed his prize and set about searching for more. He tore away the boy’s coin purse and found it much too light. Nothing of value, then. Still and ever the thorough scavenger, Emery opened the leather pouch and found within it a small, folded parchment. He gave pause, a millisecond of hesitation, before unfolding the paper and revealing a hastily scrawled letter.

In the orange glow of the lantern, the words stared accusingly up at him.

Tonight. Just as we have planned it. Go to Brumeveil. Do not stop until you’ve found them or they’ve found you. Don’t look back and do not tarry. You must go. Remember that I love you and please, for once, do as your mother tells you.

He stared at the note, transfixed, and suddenly the amulet in his pocket felt impossibly heavy. The corpse became a child, the child became a son. He should have not read the damned letter.

[Vieo Stitching]

The light was much too dim to his ever lasting frustration. Why couldn't the moon be any brighter? So instead his insensate feet moved him through the shadows of the forest. He didn't have too much to fear out here in the woods but when the scramble rose up he paused. The air was filled and than it became nothing. Unsure of what had truly started the noise, and curiosity dragging his twisted mind forward he moved towards the sound.

Although with no real direction he was as lost as if he had tried to find the letters on a page in the dark once more. His steps were heavy and he created more noise than the quite forest would produce at this time. If the people who had started and ended the noise were still there it would be easy to see the tall lanky man.

Running a hand through his hair to brush it away from the hard chips that he called eyes. His face was set in a hard scowl although he was still quite upset about not being able to read, he was quickly taken by the curiosity. A light bloomed suddenly and he changed the path he had been taking. A lantern, he realized as he drew closer.

A man, or more closely, a beast stood huddled over a small boys body. In his claws he held a letter, of which, Vieo could not decipher at his distance. He seemed absorbed, and not prone to surprising people he broke the silence with his voice.

"A bird man? Perhaps you would fulfill my curiosity in telling me perhaps why you are looting that small boys body?" He paused his mind obviously working through many things as he scarcely payed attention to the strange man birds location, "Or perhaps you are on to something more sinister? I must wonder at the curious state that I have found you in."

He tried a smile, something he rarely did and only in rare cases to try and provide comfort to others at his strange nature. It turned out lopsided and extremely awkward before falling in to the familiar scowl that permeated his face. Vieo was not trying to be unkind, some things would never make sense to him. Sneaking around was definitely not one of his strong points and as he thought things through he realized that he probably should not have revealed himself so easily.

After all, he had no idea the intentions of the bird man and he was standing over a body. Standing awkwardly he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed his bag a bit harder. Although he wasn't the easiest thing to hurt he liked to avoid fighting at all costs. Mostly because of the books on his back being harmed other than his well-being.

[Obelisk]

A presence at his side, a voice unknown to him.

Emery was up on his feet in an instant. He backed away from the corpse, accused, and stood facing the stranger, staring through the sockets of his mask. The instinct of fight or flight had been ingrained into his system. He was as wild and as natural as the beasts that roamed the forest and this, this thing, before him didn’t fit. Something was off, something unsettled Emery, and this was coming from a man that willingly dressed up as an undead bird.

“It’s not like he’ll be getting anymore use out of his things.” Emery said softly, body language reading anxious and unsure. He had never before encountered someone so patchwork and strange. He did not feel immediately threatened but knew the merits of caution, especially at night, especially within the forest. The tall stranger may be another witch hunter out searching for runaways or the elusive tower. Perhaps he was a criminal or a murderer looking for refuge in the mountains. Too many possibilities, too many potential dangers.

The stranger’s face did an odd little thing that may have been a smile, but Emery was not impressed. He kept a defensive stance, head dipped low as to hide all his features from the glow of the lantern. “The forest doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” It wasn’t a threat, but a statement of fact. “I suggest you leave or, if you are lost, I suggest you get un-lost.” Curiosity itched at the back of his brain and Emery wondered just what the man before him was.

“Stay too long and you’ll have more than a man in a mask to contend with.” The forest was known for its great beasts, those that hungered and hunted in the dark of the night. Those that would have no issue in taking down a book-toting patchwork man.

[Vieo Stitching]

The logic was flawed in the eyes of others, taking things from the dead, but to Vieo it truly made sense. He watched the strange bird man as he moved away. Making no attempt to move towards him Vieo watched him levelly as he continued to speak. It was obvious that he was a bit more civilized than he would like his mask to portray.

Vieo waved his hand in unconcern, "I am not easy to be re-killed. I am not lost nor am I afraid of the beasts. I am not a tasty meal. My flesh is old and unappetizing. Although normally one would take heed of your request, I feel no need. If I meet my end than perhaps that may bring myself to my ultimate goal."

Adjusting the strap he surveyed the bird mask, trying to find something beneath it, "Do you wear a mask or is that your face? In this light my eyes are not very good at deciphering which part of you is the real or not. Although I have never met a bird man I have met many strange things."

He seemed to be getting quite carried away as he continued to talk, unconcerned completely, even with the body laying between them, "Aggravatingly, most are more interested in my own coincidence. Is it so strange to not consider one's self to be alive or perhaps not completely mortal or part of the human realm?"

Coming back in to himself he gazed at the boy, "Perhaps we should establish the ritual act of burial? The animals will be upon him soon though they are at bay because of our presence. Of course, yourself might be considered an animal," he paused, "Forgive my ramblings. You are an interesting oddity in and of its self. Perhaps it is strange to converse over a dead body such as we are. If you wish to leave I have little power to stop you."

Gesturing about him he indicated his disadvantage. To stop him from leaving he would have to leap the dead boys body and tackle him and by that time he could have easily dodged and disappeared out of the light of the lantern. Leaving Vieo alone once more to find his way through the dark forest.