Chance Meeting [Kor] - Completed

Korvus stopped abruptly.

His masked face turned slowly in both directions, the circular lenses that were his eyes staring blankly out at the forest. He wasn't lost, per se, as such a term implied that he had some direction to begin with. He was, for all intents and purposes, aimlessly wandering, but that did not curb any displeasure at having no clear idea where he was. He did not yet know the land well, but it was something of a rule of thumb that being isolated in the middle of a forest was not a particularly wise position to find oneself in. Confident though he was in his power, he was not stupid, though this was becoming an increasingly dubious statement as he considered where he had ended up. Standing perfectly still and considering his present predicament, he then realized, was perhaps even more foolish than having ended up here in the first place. With this in mind, and self-chastisement fresh in his thoughts, he set forth once more.

He did not realize that anyone was watching him. Worse than that, he did not realize that not one, but two female creatures seeking to kill him now stalked his every movement. One was, to be fair, far less cognizant than the other, but it was no less dangerous. Like the more human creature seeking his life, it did so more because he was there than because he was particularly offensive. He existed, an uncanny life with a curious, bird-like face that set the shadowy lurker on edge.

A wind blew and sent his robe flowing around him menacingly. Something moved in the periphery of his vision, and his fingers bent into clawlike shapes within his black gloves as he turned to face it.

A tree.

He sighed, moving to return to the path when another idea struck him. Taking a few steps forward, he then inclined his head to gaze upward at a human perched upon said tree. More striking to Korvus than this was the bow in and arrow in her hands, and the realization that she could've easily punctured his skull from the right angle. He paused, considering how best to approach the situation. It was painfully obvious he wasn't dealing with a civilized creature, and he considered the possibility that she might not even speak a mortal tongue.

"Why are you here?" he queried, simply. In spite of his mask, his voice carried clearly, almost as though the beaked piece wasn't there. It was a simple, useful enchantment that Korvus often valued for how it surprised many with whom he spoke.

"Because I walked here." That the woman, or he assumed it was a woman, spoke with clarity and some certainty in her tongue was good. It made his life much easier, and furthermore allowed the transmission of threats to proceed with much more efficiency. "Put down your weapon," he spoke with utter calm; the other advantage to his mask was that any strain that might've shown in his face or eyes was hidden by bone-like plate and tinted lenses. He was, so long as he could control his own voice, utterly emotionless. "Or I will kill you with a single thought." It was not a boast; he was not in a comfortable enough position that he could yet speak at length of his ability to bring entire armies of mortal men low or torture a single soul for eternity for the most minor of transgressions, or whatever else he could distort or outright lie about. It was, on the contrary, spoken as a simple fact. A logical modus tollens, of sorts.

There was not yet any room for visual showboating either; his fingers were clawed, but there was not yet any permeable aura of darkness surrounding him. His life was yet in danger, and so he opted for a far simpler demonstration: a crow. It did not appear in any spectacular fashion; rather, it simply fluttered down at Korvus' feet as though it had always been there. It had not, of course. It did not even exist until a few moments prior and, given its nature, still did not exist in any true sense.

Korvus' head jerked back at the force, and yet his mask remained unharmed. He counted himself fortunate that the woman's instincts were simple; aim for the head, kill the body. The second arrow pierced his crow, and yet it seemed entirely untroubled. In fact, it had not even punctured the creature; rather, it had gone through it as though the crow were no more solid than the very air itself. This was, in simplest terms, precisely the case. The crow hopped idly about in defiance of the flaring temper of master and hunter, utterly oblivious to the darkness beginning to enveloped the beaked and robed form of Korvus like some evil fire. Korvus had resolved to treat her as he would treat a beast; spells that made much light and noise and did harm only to the slow or stupid, but cost him little power were of most use to him, his advantage compounded by his ability to communicate with the woman. "On your knees when you beg of me," he snarled, adding to his voice a deeper and more demonic edge that was entirely manufactured. Simple cantrips to offer the illusion of power were easily cast and maintained; it was true power that cost him, and was thus used sparingly.

He took a single step forward, bringing a hand back before thrusting it palm-first at the tree. A great, unearthly screech would fill the air, followed by a column of the same dark flames streaking down to consume the tree. They were painful, but would not cling as most magical fires did and caused no real damage. They were only slightly more based in reality than the crow that the Bishop had sought to kill, and only in that it caused some modicum of pain.

Korvus wasn't entirely aware of there being another participant in the burgeoning combat but, then, his next course of action rendered it moot. His palms went out, and as the blaze upon the faded it erupted around his body. He poured true power into this, now, in the hopes of ending this quickly. Any that assailed him would experience true agony, although he was not yet moved enough to cause physical scarring. He did not speak; his concentration being broken was something he could not risk, and his state of mind was at once catatonia and hyper-awareness. For so long as his hatred surged out of him as pain, he could see, but not react.

Korvus was not done. This woman of the wilds was, perhaps, his only chance of gaining some direction. And so, he followed her as only someone of his maddened sensibilities could. While he considered floating after her, borne upon a cloud of darkness like a ghost, he opted instead to teleport rapidly beside her, cackling all the while. "Do you think you can escape me?" he cried, using his most theatrical daemon-voice, "Did you think I would fear you, mortal?" He did love the word 'mortal,' as it allowed one to be both condescending and truthful in a subtler fashion than most other words allowed. "I am fear," he declared, barely able to keep himself from laughing, "And I will consume you."

He did not yet stop her; he had not a safe means, and he was already doing his best not to drain himself through all the rapid movement. It was short-ranged, and so he was not altogether too worried, but he knew better than not to mind himself.

Something dark and unpleasant would settle over her; a shadow, but with it an odious and oppressive presence. With an eerie calm, Korvus stood over the fallen body of his would-be assailant. He chuckled, gazing down at her with the perpetual dead stare that his mask offered. His voice, however, spoke volumes of how mirthful he was made by this turn of events. "My, my, my..." he said, beginning to walk in a predatory circle around her, "How indeed you've been repaid for your unkindness. My dear, sweet worm, do you see now why I am not to be trifled with?" He stopped, "I warned you. I could end you now, alongside your hound, but that would be too easy. Death does not grant you enough time to wallow in shame and agony." He nudged her face with a booted foot, "So, wallow."

For an evil, daemontouched menace who got his jollies pursuing those weaker than himself, the scene surrounding him was oddly tranquil: a roaring flame, albeit with an oddly greenish tinge, sat in the center of a somewhat haphazard arrangement of various objects, most composed of dark grey metal and glass tubes, that wouldn't have looked out of place in the laboratory of some mad alchemist. Korvus showed no particular interest in any of these objects, instead gazing distantly into the fire. His robe and mask were in a pile beside him, leaving him in a set of loose, black linen underclothes.

The man who sat before the fire might as well have been someone entirely different from the beaked creature that had boasted to kill with a thought. Long, dark hair framed a face that had the narrow, soft features of an over-privileged nobleman and the pallor of a freshly-interred corpse. He sat for several moments, still enough and greyish-white enough in skin to be mistaken for a statue, at first. When he moved, it was slowly, reticently, as though he had recently woken up. He was particularly tired, as the myriad conjurations that formed his little camp and required more power than he was readily willing to give. Rope, in particular, was troublesome to summon from the immaterium and even more so to tie by force of will.

He stood, with some effort, the slenderness of his form apparent as he did. Relative to others of his art and his own creations, the ravages of magic had been kind to Korvus, and by this time he had wholly convinced himself it was the might of his own will rather than dumb luck that permitted him retain his looks, let alone improve them so.

"Before I begin negotiating," he murmured, weariness pervading his usually smooth and sibilant voice, "You should bear in mind that you are tied to a tree, and I am not. Given how I have placed you in such a... compromising position, it would be unfair of me not to grant you some mercy." He gingerly reached forward to take the gag from her mouth, "Consider this my sole apology."

To Bishop's credit, Korvus entirely expected an extensive litany of swears and oaths pertaining to the extent of agonies deserved by himself, his forefathers, and his future children or, failing that, specific promises as to the fate of the possession or functionality of his genitals. Prisoners, especially bitter prisoners, oft housed creative, if sadistic, souls that Korvus could not help but admire in retrospect. He was, however, pleasantly surprised to find bitter silence the only result of removing the gag. He even offered her a smile, one that looked better practiced in the context of spite than true joviality. "You must think I'm a terrible man to have bound you up like this," Korvus mused, standing a distance away from her that indicated at least token respect, "And I would not disagree, in some respects. But consider, for a moment, that instead of driving your skull into the rocks, I have decided instead to save your life." He shut his eyes for a moment, as though thinking, and opened them as he began to pace in front of her. "I have control over your life and your freedom. What do you offer me?"

Korvus was no stranger to the reticent. To his experience, the wisest course of action was to beat them at their own game. To this end, he waited several more minutes before giving her another, sadder smile. "Very well," he said, speaking as though relenting to something. He let it hang in the air, entertaining in his own mind that she might think he was going to free her. "I shouldn't push you to make a decision all at once, now, should I?" He turned on his heel, walking back over to the fire and sitting down. He turned to look at her once more when he was seated, "You have until tomorrow morning to decide. If you do not, I'll leave you here to be picked at by the birds." He turned back to his flame, occasionally glancing up at one of the alchemical apparatuses. The art of feigning indifference was well-practiced, and he went about it easily as he privately sought some speech out of her.

"You have a tongue in your head still," Korvus answered, after some moments, "I was worried I'd forgotten it at the ravine." He templed his fingers, looking over at her, "What I want is a way out of your woods, and you understand the position I'm in. The manner in which we met does not exactly inspire my trust and confidence, and what do you have to lose once I untie you?" He smiled, "Your kind are all the same, I've learned; you think yourselves invincible because you've lived too far from the civilized world to see true power. I suppose I've done much to correct that, this day, but not enough."

"Forgive me if I find it ironic that a woman of the wilds would plead I not be offended," Korvus said, his tone halfway between bitter and sardonic. "And forgive me further if I didn't see the clear indication that I was wandering into your territory." He sighed, stretching out before the flame and yawning. "My ego is big because my power is vast," he said matter-of-factly, "What's your excuse?" He was, in spite of himself, quite enjoying this discourse. It wasn't often he got to be so wantonly mean, albeit to a captive audience.

"One might suppose that, wouldn't they?" Korvus said, an edge of self-depreciation in his voice. "Unfortunately, my knowledge of the great demonic powers and how to summon its forms does not grant me much in the stripe of a woodsman, does it?" he said. Too weary to conjure a sizable enough flame to demonstrate, he extended a hand toward the trees instead, "I suppose you're right, in that I could simply burn down these woods and everything that lives herein, but that's far too brutish for my tastes. And it's a waste of effort, too, no doubt." He turned back toward her, "And so, it falls to you. Serves you right, I'd say, for giving me such a poor first impression of the woods' inhabitants."