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a chance meeting

Rogue Encampment
For some unknown reason, the young sorceress found herself in the Rogue Encampment yet again. The incantation for a World Portal was a simple one, and she muttered it to herself as she fell asleep most days, almost by habit. Apparently that's what had happened on this night. It was a normal night really; she had no idea that she would soon encounter someone that would somehow set in motion a chain of events that would become her next Cycle.

Accessing the See button, she studied the current list of strengths and concentrations that was superimposed at the edge of her field of vision. Apparently "Wizningel" had been her skill-set/mind-set choice for the night. After a projection and quick psy-scan, she thought to herself; wizard… ninja… angel… Ninja…? Just like the Black Waltz reference that was born sometime after Wizningel herself, she was missing that particular aspect. Well, it wasn't a problem. Tonight, like most nights, she was going to visit a farm of sorts with about 7 other people. They would manage just fine.

Wizningel fidgeted amidst the tension of low-key hostility that was common while preparing for a mass Hell Bovine slaughter. She looked around to survey the party; for some reason she normally liked to note the more visible levels of expertise of those who would be killing with her. A couple barbarians stood by the fire while some amazons were running to and from each end of the Encampment. Wizningel knew there were others of her kind here as well, but they were most likely out and about hunting before the party headed out. About then, an assassin appeared.

She had seen assassins before on other runs and was somewhat accustomed to the vibe they exuded. However, something was different about this one. This assassin had a strange non-presence, as though she were hidden in open sight. In contrast to the strange empty sensation Wizningel felt, her mind was assailed by sudden, indescribable mental images. Although she recognized that this woman was part of an Order known to be mage-killers and witch-hunters, she felt an intense draw towards her. After gazing at the assassin curiously for a few moments, she shook it off. There were herds of dangerous, axe-wielding mammals to kill. Now was not the time to get distracted.

Once going through the portal, her mind was clear again. She threw Frozen Orbs, intent upon her targets, yet couldn't help but notice the assassin run past into a herd of cows. Her name was Vampirella, the sorceress noted by glancing at her peripheral menu. Wizningel only half-heard a fellow sorceress that was yelling something to her. She was watching the assassin who, by normal standards, was about to commit suicide. Absent were the covert attack maneuvers the other assassins she'd seen usually employed. Vampirella ran straight into a mass of cows, claws swinging. The sorceress instinctively ran over to help, but stopped short as Meteors began raining down on the herd. After a few seconds the flames died down. Charred and sliced bodies lay in piles on the ground. The assassin was already further across the field, making similar work of another herd. Surprised, Wizningel went back to throwing Orbs, and helped the party clear out the rest of the field.

In the next run, which was only the second in a series of many, Wizningel waited quietly in the Encampment for the portal to be opened. The assassin was standing some distance away, silent and strangely composed for one who apparently housed an enormous amount of pent-up berserker rage. In the field, the quickness and efficiency with which the assassin dispatched cows again diverted Wizningel's attention; she wondered what kind of creature this Vampirella really was underneath the blank stare of her bone helm. The sorceress decidedly took her mind off of it, and spent the rest of the run - and the next several - delivering idle banter and icy death. The night passed in a blur.

In the wee hours of the morning, Wizningel murmured the incantation for a World Portal. She left the realm puzzled. Vampirella had left an indelible impression on her, without saying a single word.

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