John looks to his side at Gregory, whom despite being very strong, his stamina does deplete faster than John's. They had been on the move for many hours now, and it was early evening. They had only stopped once to eat some food before continuing. John clears his throat. "Alright brother. Let us set up camp here for the night. I will go prepare the wards if you set up your tent and the campfire." Gregory nods at John and starts unpacking his tent, using magic just like John did. John continues moving about 200 meters from the campsite in a circle around the camp whilst he chants in a demonic language and moves his arms in circle motions towards the direction he faces. For those with untrained eyes, this would look incredibly stupid and weird. But for those attuned to see magic, they would see the almost invisible dome that starts erupting around the camp and cover it. John's eyes stops glowing as he finishes setting up the wards, and he moves to unpack his own tent again, as simple as earlier, however this time he was using a different reagent for the spell; a handful of dirt.
"John, we have been on the run for four months now, brother.. When will it end?" Gregory looks over at John as they sit by the campfire, eating some fruits and two rabbits they had caught. John swallows a mouthful of the fruit before sighing. "I do not know, brother. When the Enclave stops hunting us.. Or when they catch us and ultimately execute us." Gregory shakes his head. "There has to be more to life than running." John nods a little. "Perhaps, but not for now. I will start the watch tonight. I'll wake you when I am getting too tired." Gregory bobs his head from side to side. "Alright, brother. Wake me also if anything happens, yeah?" John does not respond to that, but he gives a subtle nod.
Gregory returns into his tent, and after a few minutes snoring is heard from it. John crosses his legs as he finishes his food, listening to the sounds of the forest, a few owls in the distance, a little bit of wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the crackling of fire on the campfire. John rubs his forehead. He was starting to get tired already, but he knew how to stay awake to keep watch. John closes his eyes as he focuses on the sounds of the forest. More specifically the owls. He singles out one of the two distinct owl noises and focuses intently on it as he starts chanting low under his breath, his hands moving once more in a ritualistic manner. He then stops the chanting as he takes up a knife from his belt and pokes his finger, drawing a pure black liqiud from it. Still with his eyes closed he drags his finger across his forehead and with a word of power he opens his eyes and gasps as he looks straight up into the sky.
Just like that, with his blood, some words and movement of his hands, he was looking through the eyes of the owl. But it was more than that. He was becoming the owl. He could still feel his own body, as if an invisible string was connected between the owl and his body. After securing his connection with the owl, John forcefully makes the owl do as he wills. The owl flies up into the air and starts circling the borders of the wards John put up around the camp, the owl's natural vision allowing John to see very well in the forest.
The hours passed as John and the owl kept watch over the camp. Other than some rodents and other wildlife, there was not much activity. John knows that there are ways to hide from the plain eye and only being able to be seen by magic, but the Enclave is behind them by hours unless they have a priestess with them which can improve one's stamina and reduce the need of rest. However, as John and Gregory just ran and moved without any direction, the Enclave has to track them, which would take a bit longer than just going somewhere random. John heard the snap of a twig faintly. Probably a deer or something. But there was something weird about it. It sounded distorted.. Wait, the owl didn't hear it. He did. John swiftly breaks the spell as he lowers his head and blinks a few times, having sat on his stool with his hands out to the side and his face up towards the sky, dagger in hand. John takes a deep breath to sharpen his senses as he hears a roar coming from behind him. Out of reflex, John throws himself forwards, just narrowly making it over the campfire, drawing his sword as he lands. He rolls onto his back and stares up into the red eyes of an ugly orc dressed in white and gold, his tusks so big that they cover half of his face. The orc swings his mighty battleaxe down towards John, whom swiftly raises his hand and shouts a word of power, and a barrier of force catches the battleaxe, stopping it just a few centimeters over his head. John's eyes, glowing bright green as always when he uses his powers, narrows his gaze and swings his sword up towards the Orc's shoulder, the orc catching it with a hand and pulling the sword out of John's hand. "Gregory! The Enclave is here!" John shoves his outstretched palm, the one he conjured the barrier with, towards the orc, the barrier flying towards the orc and sending him and his axe stumbling backwards.
Gregory comes rushing out of his tent, sword in hand, eyes glowing yellow. A word of power is spoken, and Gregory with enhanced speed rushes at the orc and swings his greatsword into the orc's neck, green blood spraying to the side as the sword continues its trajecotry. The orc gurgles for a few seconds before clutching his throat and stumbling backwards before falling onto the ground with a loud thud. "Brother, we must go! Forget about the tents!" Gregory calls out to John, whom at this point was back up on his feet and picking up his sword. "No! I need my belongings!" John starts rushing towards his tent, but Gregory intercepts him and grabs him by the collar. "Forget about your possessions John! The Enclave is here! We must make haste before we are surrounded!" John snarls before he and Gregory starts running in a direction. Behind them they can barely hear the orc struggling to stay alive, but there was more. The forest was entirely silent. John stops. "It is too late. They already have us surrounded." Gregory looks at John and opens his mouth to speak before a spear emitting a low golden light and warmth soars into view and pierces through Gregory's chest, a gasp escaping his open mouth. "Gregory! No!" John cries out in disbelief before a feminine voice speaks out behind him. "John Melorni! Surrender to the power of the Enclave of Lathoros for your sins." John looks behind him at a human priestess from what he can tell. She stands quite tall, probably only a few centimeters shorter than himself. Her gold and white robes covers her body, but the two swords in her hands suggests she is more than a capable fighter. John shakes his head. "Never."
"So be it. By the authority granted to me by Lathoros himself, you will be punished." Her eyes lights up golden as she rushes towards John. Unlike his own warlock-powers, the magic used by a Priestess of Lathoros does not require words of power or movement to be used. Nor does it require reagents. John enters a defensive stance as himself and the priestess clashes blades. She is moving quite fast, and her strikes are strong. John will need to use all of his training from when he was a soldier to defend himself. The priestess keeps John on the defense, gaining ground with each swing of her blades. "Do not worry, my child." A seductive feminine voice speaks in his mind. His deity, Berina, is speaking directly to him. John staggers backwards as he blocks another of the swings from his adversary. "Lay down your weapon, John. You will be spared and another of my disciples will free you." The voice speaks in John's head again, a soothing warmth filling John's chest. John is sliced across his arm as he cries out in pain. "Okay okay! I surrender to the Enclave!" John cries out as he drops his blade and hops backwards to dodge another swing from the priestess. The priestess stops for a moment, watching John carefully as he drops to his knees, placing his hands on his head. The priestess looks at him before looking behind him, nodding. Within a second four sets of hands are forcing John onto his stomach, gagging him and tying his hands and feet, stripping him off his pouch and dagger.
"Wise choice, John Melorni. You will stand trial for your sins, and the High Inquisitor will judge you." The priestess speaks as she sheathes her swords. John's deity speaks inside his mind again. "In four moons, my faithful John, a woman by the name of Leonora will find her way to your cell. She will be your saviour, and you will never doubt her." The soothing warmth in John's chest increases and spreads through his body, making him shiver with power, before it ceases and all that he feels is the burning warmth of the Enclave preparing him for transport.
