Alchemy.

The word was familiar to Caezel, but at the same time it had an odd and slightly distasteful sound to him. Perhaps it was the fact that someone of his legacy was digging through weeds in a dense half-dead just to find one of the correct mushrooms for his latest potion. Or that he was competing with more and more young individuals that had barely passed the tender age of 200 on the arts he had been doing for centuries. Or perhaps he was just old. [i]No, no no,[/i] he thought, shaking his head as his back popped while he leaned to brush leaves aside. [i]Not old. Just... experienced.[/i] He picked a mushroom... a purple one with brown spots. [i]Damn it. Not even the mushrooms grow right. Can't you bastards grow someplace just a LITTLE more convenient than right next to the border?![/i] Throwing the under-aged mushroom aside, he kicked at the dead leaves on the ground and wrinkled his nose as the mushroom began to reek.

"Can't you damn things smell just a little better..." he growled at the spot where he threw the mushroom. At the right age, they were rather nice smelling and distinctly poisonous. He had the luck of picking one just before ripeness - not poisonous and distinctly horrible in smell, detectable by vampires and possibly fatal to humans. And only the exact texture of the spots could indicate the difference. The texture failed him. Again.

Obviously, the mushrooms were starting to lose their distinct textures too. Caezel hadn't checked his eyes in five hundred years, but he was quite confident that wasn't the problem. Or at least, he didn't want to think it was.

Putting the subject out of his mind, he walked through the forest, checking the roots of every tree. The mushrooms he was looking for grew right in that area - an area very close to the border. Despite that, he wasn't particularly concerned - his blade could finish off what his alchemy and limited spell knowledge could not. Unless it was a fairy. In which case it would turn to be a nasty brawl... though he didn't mind the concept.

He stood up very suddenly, having detected something... different. A noise, something... giggly. It was the most random noise he could have possibly heard in the context. Something very off indeed.

Moving quietly, stepping to make no sound, he came to a tall tree a few feet in front of him and slowly climbed it. He was old, but he climbed with all the grace of a stalking cat.

At the top, he saw something distinctly odd far through the branches: a strange figure in a cloak, walking through the forest, a couple hundred feet away. He could hear the footsteps of the figure, or rather the branches that were being stepped on, but he couldn't get a good enough look to see what it actually was.

He opted to stay put in the tree for the moment, watching as the figure moved forwards a little off center from his direction, keeping his eyes on its every move. If he was lucky, he could find his mushroom and feed on a new victim in one swoop. Or capture himself another experiment. Either option sounded fine to him... but first, he would have to see what came of the figure and identify it further. He didn't base his survival on being hasty.