"Come to me," beckoned the voice with no face. It was the same voice that had spoken to her each night, invading her peaceful sleep with nightmarish visions. Night after night she watched the lands die, and along with them she watched all she knew and loved turn away and fade into a state of undeath. It was the price she had paid in seeking out further knowledge, a punishment for being unwilling to accept the fact that certain paths were best unfollowed. As she moved through the thick mist, she no longer felt its soft caress, rather it felt chilling and forbidding. The sun before the mist had not soothed her as it washed warmly over her, rather it made her uncomfortable. All that had been good in the past, was now tainted in some foul way by her new teachings. The druid had ceased to live within her, as it could no longer compete with the darkness that was the necromancer. "Come to me," the voice called again, in a commanding tone that gave no hint as to whom it was that was drawing her forward. She felt much like a puppet on strings as she continued on, the mist fading away replaced by a darkness that seemed completely not natural.

Sildrea had been many places in search of this voice, and had began to believe it was simply the darkness itself calling for her. Perhaps it was, though it was not a decision she was willing to make at this point and on her search for the face behind the voice she had learned much. She found she was still able to blend in almost anywhere, be it a large city or small town, yet it seemed now that people were not quite as willing to approach her. The carefree light look of her ancestors had been taken away from her along with her attunement to nature, leaving behind darker features upon the canvas of elven skin. Age would never destroy her though, as these new changes had not taken away the near immortality of the elves. This place, however, seemed as if it held little for her, aside from a certain comfort in being enveloped in darkness to the point that even her keen vision could discern little of her surroundings. There was nearly no noise, and those that did reach her ears were more like muffled sounds which could not be traced to any creature living or otherwise. There was one voice that was still crystal clear, which lent proof to her idea that the voice was not that of a physical being, but rather a creature of her mind or a power which spoke without need for a physical presence."Come to me," it called, soft and gentle, yet still demanding her attention.

Her mind had become clouded with so many thoughts of what had been her past, and of what would become her future, but still her feet had continued forward. The darkness now surrounded her completely, as if the known world had ended and left her here in this absence of life. Only the faintest of sounds reached her ears, and none of those could be made out to represent anything. The silence and darkness was peaceful, leaving her to stand still for moments to simply take it in and enjoy it. In some sort of twisted way, it was as if she had stepped into her own death, the absence of life in all ways, and would now be left to believe that there was no life after death as some had believed. Only the ground beneath her feet and the slight hints of something less than absolute darkness around her gave her reason to believe she was still in the swamp beyond the mist. She discovered the ground beneath her was solid, moss covered perhaps, but solid enough to support her weight as she knelt down to think for a bit. The voice ceased to call her, which left her feeling empty, as if whomever it was no longer wished her presence. After minutes of waiting had passed, she called out, "Why will you not show me your face?" Be it the 'voice' or any other being, she cared not who answered, just that there was some proof of life in this place that felt so empty and dead.

He moved from tree to tree with care, Hiding behind each in turn as he followed the lone elf creature. She must be foolish he thought, to venture here alone. Only the greying mists, the blackened trees and the echo of those lost in the woods. He had been tracking here for about an hour. Ever since he came across the new meat he had followed it and waited for his chance to strike out at his new harvest.

He needed the 'meat' as he called it, to survive. He could keep going for a time but soon enough one body part or another would have rotted down and decayed finally as age took hold. Then he would need a replacement for the appendage, a new arm a new hand the only options he could take were to desecrate a grave or find some fresh blood. A partially rotted limb was good for a short fix but he could use a new limb for a month until it became to decrepit to be of any use. It was a perpetual cycle and one he had to follow.

He was a patch work man of different limbs and skins. Each part different and each part similar in its decayed depravity. He needed what the woman had. A whole body, but that was impossible he knew all he could do was search endlessly for a new harvest, a chance to replace himself.

As he neared the elf, she suddenly stopped and called out, "Why will you not show me your face?" What? how could she know he was there. Admittedly he was not the best at sneaking and waiting but in this mist it was impossible to see further than 30 feet anyway! and how could she know about him? how could she know about what he looked like? He grimaced in the darkness ... not a grimace ... more a winding of his blackened maw.

Now he had to make his move, he snuck out behind her, slowly moving away from the swirling mist ready to finish it. His hands formed long dark talons as the claws of darkness spell took its effect. He reached out and placed a talon on her shoulder and raised the other ready to strike. "Here i am, meat. Are you ready to become my next harvest?

Something caught her nose, just after her cry into the darkness. It was dying flesh, something she had smelled before when learning of the arts she now sought more of. The dead, there was a creature of the dead standing right near her, yet she couldn't tell whether it was friend or foe. "Here I am, meat. Are you ready to become my next harvest?" Definitely foe, she was made to realize by the question and the talon upon her shoulder. She would not startle, and she would not show any fear that she felt, but rather she'd turn and face this abomination. As she did so, she was quick to realize that this monster was one of the creatures a necromancer of considerable power could create, though she couldn't get the name to come to mind. None the less, this fact alone would play into her hand and aid well in her attempt at returning from this swamp of darkness alive.. and in one piece.

"You are the creation of a necromancer, are you not?" She turned slowly, as not to startle the creature behind her, pivoting so that the talon upon her shoulder remained unmoved. She did not wish to appear as if she were attempting to escape, but rather that she wished to face him. "If so, it would be quite ill of you to bring harm to another of their kind." The stench of death was now all around them, the same smell she had caught hint of earlier and attributed to the fact that she was in a swamp, how foolish that had been. She was not yet numb to the scent of death, as many who had studied as she had were. Truth be told, this was the hardest part of the changes she had undertaken as the transformation had killed off a part of who she was.

Now facing him, she had a chance to study the creature who had wished to claim her for his own physical being, and the thought of that was chilling. There were plenty of beings who would much better suit the needs of a creation such as this, those who were false in their portrayal of self, those who sought death as a easy exit from their troubles. No, she had come to this place to follow a voice, one she believed would lead her forward now that she had forsaken all that she had known in the past for this knowledge she now held. Perhaps, this was some sick, cruel god's way of telling her that she should never have followed the path she did to be where she was now. She was weak, both in her physical being and in her knowledge of her own power. Nature no longer answered her call, after years of being its child, though she vowed to find a way to combine all arcane knowledge in a quest to become one with the elements. A test! This is merely a test. The thought struck her hard as she came to consider the only real reason why she'd be drawn into this murk of darkness and absence by a voice which had no face. She knew by first glance that the creature before her was not the source of the voice, so finally, she was answered.

He was surprised when she did not become startled from his comment and his subsequent actions. Normally one would back away from him. His grotesque form was appalling to many and simply disgusting to others. Why wasn't she backing away? The answer lay in the reply. "You are the creation of a necromancer, are you not?......"If so, it would be quite ill of you to bring harm to another of their kind."

That was it she was one of them! The ones who made him, they were disturbed, fowl. They were wrong. Only a twisted mind could create something such as him! How could they? Why? were they so weak that they could not protect themselves. What ever the reason he was created and even he knew he should not exist.

"Why? why create something like me? Look at me, are you proud that you can do this? I am an abomination to nature, to everything that should be i am perverse. I have to kill to survive and my survival is simply proof of how wrong you people are. ... but at least your people. I am an organic machine born of evil and i know nothing but evil. So why do you do this and why should i not hate your kind for what you have done?

He took a step back, he loosed go the claw on her shoulder. He would have wept if he could have but he was simply a shell. He couldn't feel anything on his skin all he had was sight and sound. He let the claws subside and his shrivelled hands returned to their normal rotten self's. He walked back sat in the gap between the roots of a tree and put his head in his hands.

He was a creature built for war, he was born of evil and spite and now he was forced to continue his existence because he simply had to. And now a necromancer, one of those that created things like him was telling HIM that it would be quite ill of him to harm one ot their kind. It was wrong. He buried his face further in his hands. Why did he exist? what was the sick point!

At the end of the creature's speech, Sildrea's face turned from a mask of absolute confidence to one that betrayed her startled feelings. Of all things, she had least expected the creature to be sad for what he was, for in fact he was a stong creation in many ways. Yet he seemed so... human, to the point that his words disturbed Sildrea and left her silent for a short time while she simply considered his words and looked for the best way to answer him. He had removed his talon from her shoulder, and she had watched with an oddly queesy feeling as it mutated back into another state. This type of creation was something she had only read of, and had no interests in creating herself, as it seemed to be absolutely perverse.

"Whomever created you abused their powers," she stated, rather boldly. Most likely, the necromancer who had created this being was much more powerful, and would take no liking to her statement, yet it was her belief. "I am not that person, however I do wish that I could ease your pain." She paused, then spoke again, "Hmmm, perhaps I can, as a temporary resolution." She closed her eyes some, trusting in the fact that this construct would not attack her as she attempted to aid him, tapping into the most basic of powers, then opening her eyes and directing dark magics of regeneration towards him. Perhaps in being a reverse of the light forms of healing, it would serve some use to regenerate his ailing body and keep him from needing to hunt 'meat' for a short time.

The attempt took a good bit of her energy, as it was one of the first times she had actually used her new found knowledge. In the past, she had only studied by reading and listening, but now she had actually used a slight bit of this power. "I am not sure if that did you any bit of good. I.. am rather weak in the magics of darkness, but I offer you what knowledge I do have." If you promise not to make me your next victim! The words were in her mind, yet she knew not to speak them. It was enough that she had admited her lack of strength, yet she was honest in her wishes to aid the creature in what way she could. Perhaps finding the source of the voice would be the answer to both of their problems. She needed a mentor, or a source of knowledge that she could learn from, else she would simply be a druid who had fallen out of nature's good will.