shimmer

Crickets chirp softly through the otherwise soundless night in The Weeping Peninsula. Not another creature seems to stir nearby, which is what made the old merchant's camp the perfect spot to settle down in. If it wasn't for the dimming light of a firepit slowly burning out, the tarnished tucked away between the bushes would have been invisible to all but the stars above. The camp is not what one would call comfortable by any means, but a shelter is a shelter and Niles made due with what was left behind by the previous occupant.

The day had been long and exhausting, traveling through Limgrave and down to the remains of Castle Morne. He had not bothered to actually clear the castle out- he harbors no ill will towards the misbegotten there- and was simply there on a mission to sneak through and gather any leftover supplies he could find. Still, one wrong step and a group of rabid dogs chasing one through a battlefield was not an ideal situation and had called for a bit of improvising, turning the stealth mission into 'how to create the biggest mess in order to get out of a much smaller one'. Not the brightest of ideas, he realized, but he had made it out alive with only his ego mildly in shambles. Now, however, he sleeps soundly, recuperating his energy to get back on the road in the morning.

Until a golden dagger slams into the ground just next to his head, that is.

He shuffles, blinking his eyes as he stares blearily at the object before he realizes exactly what it is, and who it most likely came from. He jolts up in a panic just in time for another dagger to strike near him and he panics, rustling free of his makeshift bed and fumbling for his weapons. At last he finds his bloodhound's fang tucked under some leaves and he grabs it, standing on guard as he glances around for his guest.

"Can a man not get some rest?" Niles calls out, frustrated at his attacker. "And you missed me, by the way."

A leaf drifting down from the tree above is the only thing that alerts him to the massive figure looming just over him. He dodges away, just in time for the figure to come crashing down, a golden great hammer pounding the spot he had just been in before it shatters away in a golden glow.

"Thou must always be on alert, Tarnished," the figure spits out, "not every foe intends to miss."

Niles groans, lowering his weapon and pouting dramatically. "By the gods, Morgott, it's the middle of the night–"

"Didst thou not heed my words?" This time it is the wooden cane the omen carries that is raised in the tarnished’s direction. “Did I not warn thee to fear the night?”

He cannot argue with that, as Morgott had given him warning, but he did not consider that the man would launch a surprise attack on him while he was sleeping. Up until this moment, the times they had met were rather amiable despite some of the awkwardness. His grip tightens on the hilt of his bloodhound’s fang as he holds eye contact with Morgott. Awake and on guard now, he readies himself to fight if need be. “I’ve told you before, I have no interest in fighting you. I want to solve things as peacefully as can be.”

The burning embers flicker and light up the two men, each of them at a standstill, eyes locked together in an intense gaze. It is Morgott who makes the first move.

A sword materializes in his grasp as he lunges towards the tarnished, sending a shimmering golden glow of holy magicks sparking across the campsite as it collides with the bloodhound’s fang. Niles pushes back against Morgott’s weight, leaping back and dodging around to the omen’s side and kicking out in an attempt to throw him off balance. It works if only for a moment, but Morgott spins on his heel, a massive hammer in his grasp that he brings down upon the much smaller man, sending him flying back against the dirt.

Niles coughs- even though he recognizes that Morgott had not used nearly his full strength, he is absolutely winded from the blow. At least, he thinks, Morgott’s goal isn’t to kill him. He hopes, anyway. Staggering back up, he leaps forward, bringing the fang down hard where Morgott stood, but the demigod is fast, and the strike does nothing but knick his arm as he flies backwards and launches another dagger at Niles. It whizzes past his head and dissipates just behind him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re shockingly nimble for an old man?”

That earns a snarl from Morgott, his tail lashing behind him as he grips his staff and prepares for another attack. This time, Niles is ready to meet him as they leap into the air, Niles discarding his weapon and grasping onto Morgott’s cloak to swing himself over onto the omen’s back, causing Morgott to crash down against the earth. He lashes out, scrambling like a trapped beast before flipping over onto his back and knocking the wind out of Niles.

“Foul, graceless tarnished, how dare thee? Doth thou take everything as a jest?!” Morgott barks as Niles scrambles to get out from underneath him. “Thou discards thy weapons in combat and thinks mounting me like thy steed willst get thou anywhere?”

“Well, it worked,” Niles huffs, adding in quietly, “kind of.” He squirms out from beneath Morgott and collapses next to him, an expression of wry amusement set on his face as he glances at the demigod.

Morgott snorts. Idiot tarnished. He returns Niles’ glance with one of barely-veiled contempt as he sits up. Damn fool, crush him now before this gets out of hand. And yet, he finds himself unable to take out the man- the annoying little mite that keeps finding a way under his skin. He can live, for now.

The omen’s form begins to emit a faint golden glow, revealing himself as just another projection of his true form. Niles reaches out, his hand swiping straight through the phantom.

“Please, Morgott, just listen to me–”

But it is too late. The projection shatters into a shimmering blaze of gold, the magical dust lingering in the air for a moment as Niles sighs.

Morgott is gone, and another chance at an accord is gone with him.