Steven
He watched her eat. Izojnir's eyes gleamed satisfied with the meat inside of her mouth, making her cheeks almost puff out with the amount she drove inside of her. She wondered why he would seem the Witherlands quiet. Then she said that the earth always spoke, that the sea always chanted. She was not wrong, but that required a level of perception coming from third eye and an acute sense of hearing beyond the fabrics of what is real for the commonfolk.

"You speak of wandering spirits and lost souls." Rekkan made the observation. "Interesting. What do you hear?"

"Have you ever been to a city? Its center has days when it is full of stalls and shops, people leaving and entering every day and creating rivers of flesh and bone that flood the streets. They shout prices and barter deals, the taverns are full of rowdy folk that sing along with the bard. The sounds are unlike nature or the ethereal. They are... Noisy. For the lack of a better term. The silent whispers of the dead, they are simpler. More... Tranquil." The wanderer spoke openly of his own ability as it seemed like the girl had one similar to it. Spirit walking, spirit talking.

The man let her finish her steak and stab the embers and ash with it. He followed in gripping the hilt and pulling it back, making use of the same dagger to cut his own steak and cook it in front of the flickering flames.

"I will spend another night, but it is not safe for you to be with me during the nighttime." He was mysterious about it. He did not give her a reason. But if she was a spirit talker, perhaps she could see beyond the skin, deeper within, an essence strange to the heart and soul of the common man. There was an appealing flame, a beacon of light that, if she was enticed by, who knew what manner of creatures chased after it? "But I will leave that decision to you. Life is made of choices. Those choices will define you and help or hinder your growth."
Megan
"Unsafe? Hmm. But you brought me here, telling me it *Would* Be safe." She said, offering him that curiosity once more. "Tell me, then. What makes it unsafe?" She asked, pulling her knees as far up as she could, resting her cheek on one.

The man held with him a strange alure, thkugh she attributed most of it to his excessive mystery. The .Ore he spoke, the more questions she had, and ask she would. It was something the simply hinged on relevance, at this point. She felt a need to ask only questions that... Made sense for the moment, if that makes sense.

"You are clearly abnormal. You do not seem a wild-man, and yet you have the characteristics of one." She said, kneading her fingers into her thigh as she spoke. "Is that why you left the cities? Because you are dangerous to so many people?" She asked.

She offered him a stale gaze, now, unchanging, clearly bent on receiving an answer. Now she wanted to know what he was. There were stories, nameless men who became beasts at night, but she had only ever heard this one combined with speculations on theever-changing moon.

"Is the moon going to change you?" She asked, reaching an end to her train of thought.
Steven
He did not lie. She was safer with him than she was alone. But the night held many secrets, even to those woke to the realm of spirits and more. "The lingering souls of the dead hunger. They prey on life when life is brimming with energy. Energy that should be joined with theirs." Rekkan said. "That is their limited trail of thought. Or perhaps it is mere instinct that drives them." He became a shaman to learn of these entities, to learn about himself, but introspection was always barred by some unknown barrier, a layer that deprived him of knowledge of the self.

She complimented him, in a way. She called him a wild man, which was more than the standard "Monster" Or "Beast" That civilized folk used to call him.

"Not exactly. If anything, it seems that being in such crowded places muddles my... Scent, if we can call it that." He shrugged his shoulders, noticing it was time to turn the steak to the other side. He did so after relaxing, almost slumping his shoulders. "But why live in fear and shame? I can only find solace in the journey, thus I endure the night in my lonesome. I have had others that joined me before, but they never stayed for long after the first night." He nodded once, gazing at the fire. "But we can be lucky tonight, the spirits may not be so restless. I only know when the time comes. Not beforehand."

When the girl asked such a crude question, his dark browns turned to her stale gaze and crossed it. He peered into her soul through its windows, the two orbs.

"Perhaps." He muttered. It was nearly a growl. The flame sparked a loud and bright light with it. But it waned quickly enough. He grinned.

"The moon changes many men. Some become horrors. Others, the horrified."
Megan
She didn't say anything. She just grunted, offering a shallow nod in his direction.

Such a weird man.

"I will wait here, then. For nightfall. I want to see what yoh speak of. If the unclaimed roam these lands, I would not be much better on my own." She said, laying herself on her stomach, facing away frrom him. Her eyes watched the vegetation they had passed through that had brought them into this seclusion in the first place. Perhaps the answer would be found here. She looked over ber shoulder, over her rear, at him, rolling sideways momentarily to see what he was doing, before continuong her vigil.

She pulled her statchel closer to herself. If she needed her hatchet, she would be ready.
Steven
She did not seem to understand that these spirits were drawn to him, hence why the night was dangerous when around him. But the man did not care. Instead, he pulled the steak away from the fire and used his bare hands to hold it, having placed his dagger by his right side. It was her choice, so he would have her feel that responsibility on her shoulders.

Time moved forward, the pendulum kept swinging and swaying. He rose from the fire's side and focused on preparing for the coming night. There was no longer light from the sun, only the clarity that the fire provided. Rekkan found a branch that could act as a torch and lit it with its edge against the flames. He gazed at Izojnir to find her gazing back over her drawn out back and moundy rump. The scars on his face shimmered with the proximity of the torch's fire.

"They do not like the light. They are blinded by it." The wanderer taught her.

Then what was darkness crept stronger around the camp. It loomed towards them as whispers of dread permeated the atmosphere with eery sounds, growls. The hungering spirits were drawn together to form dark entities of bitter hatred and hollow matter, ever seeking life to fulfill them. They stalked the camp, rising in numbers.
Megan
She took hold of her hatchet, pulling on her boots. She reached into her statchel, and produced a peice of flint. She had a simple plan, with Rekkan's words in mind. She would blind any who got too close, with this. She had no clue what unclaimed looked like; just that her nana had told her to wary of them.

Some unclaimed were like dead bodies, fozen by frost, whilst some were just like a man, but devoid of s heartbeat. Either way, she was told that unclaimed fed on the living. This... Didn't exactly voncern her much. Sho didn't feed at the cost of something else? A deer must die for her to eat from it.

She sakd nothing, for now, there was no need to make noise. Things would happen as they should. Fate was fate.
Steven
Their forms and sizes were fluid in each passing creature. Some were four legged monsters made of darkness and others were dead bodies, rotting corpses that were possessed by the combined efforts of dark natured souls that gave in to their taints of corruption.

The first wave shambles forth from the trees. They groaned and growled, zombies and prowling monsters that showed their brittle teeth or layered fangs. Rekkan took that one moment before the action to push his right arm to the side and open the hand, making the tattoo on it whirl and from it create flames that produced Fang. From its many shapes, the red sword took a shorter length to its blade to be wielded in the narrow space of the small clearing where the camp was located. Rekkan had to come up a bit more personal, but he did not mind this. He was used to it.

The wanderer began the slaughter, taking steps beyond the burning light that the sake beings slowly approached. When he did, some of the over eager ones pounced but met their ends with solid thrusts from Fang or hard bashes from his torch. Those that formed darkness were returned to the atmosphere, for they did not spill blood nor were matter any longer. The shambling corpses were the ones that remained and even were repossessed at times, making the man stomp moving hands under his heavy feet or crush skulls of wailing dead. The stench was awful, something the duo needed to survive as much as the seemingly endless supply of dark beings and corpses.
Megan
It was not far from the truth for one to say that Izo was fascinated by this all, in a somewhat morbid manner of going about it. Ahe watched him fight with glee, striking down the unclaimed, watching bis motions, his movements. The smell did little to bother her; whale carcasses were somewhat worse. And they exploded. She'd hold her hatchet in one hand, accompanying him, her strikes taking of limbs, appendages, and generally being a decent help when it came to warding the massess off.

She giggled.

There had been little at home so exciting as this. Today, she's been almost robbed, found a man who uses magic, and is currently fighting the unclaimed, all three things, save for roberry, being unheard of. In her village, those who stole likely hadn't stored enough surplus grain, or had no way of repairing damaged clothing. She split the hand of a skeletal remant, before smacking the thing with the back of her hatchetz causing it to stumble, her attention shifting to a nearer one and essentially repeating this. It was brutally effective.
Steven
It was routine to fight the ambulant dark spirits of the night. Rekkan eviscerated corpses and made guts spill onto the ground with his efforts, ruining carcasses until there were no more shambling monsters. Their physical efforts were ruined to retreat and reform as the same black entities that returned with a need for life. The insufferable creatures were slain yet again, then on their crude forms that deteriorated into the ether.

The Witherlands themselves had a lack of prospects for these vessel seeking beings, though sometimes they found the most dangerous trolls or wolves. In this night's particular case, the surroundings were tame enough and the monsters bereft of a true weapon to cause trouble. Rekkan appreciated that. An easier night, perhaps?

Izojnir looked entertained. The wanderer glanced over his shoulder every now and again, watching her enjoy herself in the snapping of limbs and axing of bodies. Maybe she would feel a bit bored when the wave of zombies was finished, for the dark entities that tried to consume the warrior's life essence dissipated with heavy blows against their materialized black matter. But it didn't take long for their numbers to thin out, all until they turned into a bunch of smaller monsters that were stomped.

"It will take some time until their reform. Perhaps the rest of the night will be peaceful." He stated, but he didn't get his hopes up.
Megan
Izo wondered if rekkan ever grew... Bored... Of this. Well, if that was the way to word it. If they attacked him every night, if they came after him every day, the monotony may be the thing to kill him, despite these unclaimed being unable to in the slightest. She brought her hachet down, in two-handed grip, on the head of one, and then kicked it away, body rolling violently. Perhaps, with practice, she could ensure no one bothered her on the road, ever again.

"They reform?" She asked, staring out at the sea of gore. She'd never heard of them doing that, before. Then again, she'd also just never heard of them in the first place. Beings of shadow that crawled, beings of flesh that shambled, all unclaimed, all after the same strange prize. Perhaps they wanted his magic ability? Could they eat it? And... Speaking of.

"Can you burn them?" She asked, wafting her hand at the corpses. "Maybe that will ensure they do not get back up?"
Steven
Only the beings of darkness rose again. The rotten corpses were simple vessels that hosted their wicked intent until they fell. But as the night went on, Rekkan did pile the bodies of the once living and used his magics to begin a fire akin to a funeral pyre.

"Some do. But the pyre will scare them off to the fringes of darkness."

And it did. In comparison with the campfire, the new light from the pyre exorcised the demons and scared them away to the dark recesses of the woods. As long as the bodies burned, the two would be relatively safe. That is unless the dark ones found something bigger to possess. With luck, the Witherlands lacked such a predator, at least in the nearest reaches of the camp.

"This is a good opportunity to rest." Rekkan stated, letting Fang withdraw back to flames that faded in the air. His cloak had cuts and tears. He removed it and laid it inside the tent. Izojnir could see then his taut figure better, beyond the arms. It was a mess of scars and bruises of different shapes and sizes, along with the lean musculature of an athletic warrior. Yet he boasted great strength and agility. He was rather surreal. The wanderer glanced over his shoulder to her. "Are you not tired?"