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 Posted: Mon Feb 22, 2010 1:22 am
The black flames collided with Moonblade's own Emerald Fire, each consuming the other as they billowed out to the sides spectacularly. Damrius's ploy succeeded as he escaped the attack completely unharmed. Why Damrius decided to roll afterward was anyone's guess, but Moonblade found the correlation between the black lightning and black flames amusing for one reason or another.
"How quaint."
Bending his knees as he landed, he rebounded and went airborne once more, this time only achieving a height at about six feet. At the climax of his jump, Moonblade simply heaved his spear directly at the tumbling Damrius.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 3:17 pm
A rough and calloused hand reached from within the cloud screen, clutching at the rock ledge just above it, and then like a party of ghosts, they emerged from the concealing mist. The tattered group of them assembled on the lip of one of the vast mountain's various peaks. They looked tattered, broken, but by no means beaten. The mountain had tried all of them, and all of them had been found fit, but a good many of their friends had been found wanting, and the wilderness had claimed them. Many had succumbed to loose footholds, but occasionally the great and cruel winged beasts that made home among the spiny tips of the mountain had made more than one of their number dinner.
Rral stood on the very edge of the rocky platform, staring out past the mist they'd emerged from. At this height they could see very little, very little indeed. It seemed that they stood at the top of the world, a barren place where only rocky peaks and spiny towers seemed to exist. It truly was as though the God's had poured all their cruelty and malice into this environment. Nothing that lived here, among the true heights of the Mithril Mountains, bode well for the Dwarven party.
So many thoughts passed through his mind as he scanned the view. The beginning of their journey seemed years ago, Rral could hardly believe that it had been him that had set out from the city in search of the legendary Vault of Annihilius that only the legends spoke of. Certainly, the journey had reforged him, closed his heart to the passions that so often governed the lives of the living. He knew his fellow survivors shared the same feeling, or lack thereof, as he did. He could scarcely believe they were so close to their goal; riches and power beyond imagining were just a mere walk away. How they were all going to return alive seemed the furthest thing from Rral's mind, and indeed fate smiled upon him, for the need for such plans would soon be eliminated.
Turning from the ledge Rral saw the scattered contingent that had made it this far, their faces all shared the same blank look, of men robbed of their emotions by hardship, but within every set of eyes he set upon, he saw the same glimmer of hope that he knew kept him going too.
"Come on then, if what they say is true, we'll see the entrance just over this next ledge"
Rral gestered to the rock face that towered above them now, whatever mysteries it held were still invisible to see, the line of sight too steep to possibly make out any features, but what did inspire them was the eerie way the mountain that had tried all of them so hard in the past seemed to have a path carved from its bare rock, to the very ledge they needed to get to.
Rral took the first steps forward, and made his way up, knowing his men would follow, with the promise of success so close he knew not one of them would want to be the last to set eyes upon what was sure to be the making of them all. Legends of the Vault had always been told among their people, but many had assumed it just that, a legend, and those that thought it true, also thought the journey too perilous, too far, too much for any mortal to make.
Rral had proved them wrong though; he'd lost faith, men, even his heart on the journey, but to gain what the Vault held, to gain a power with no equal? To gain treasures time had forgotten, stowed away just for him? It was worth it. Rral would have sacrificed every man for this. Every one of his men. Of course, he'd never voice such opinions, but in the darkest recesses of his heart he knew it to be true.
What met him at the top of the ramp was a sight that brought tears to his eyes for the first time in what felt like lifetimes. Carved from the rockface were figures upon figures of men, all intertwined, and joined in some way. Some were lifting others, some were coiled in the passions of love, others even seemed to be lifting their arms as though in worship, but they all worked together to form a tapestry of human shapes and designs that implied a grander design and mastery long forgotten by the Dwarves of now. Whoever had made this entrance had spent a great deal of time on it, perhaps even lifetimes. Most of the finer details had been swept away by harsh winds and bitter cold, but Rral, a craftsman himself, could tell that someone of great ability had made this entrance.
As he felt his men gather around him, he knew they too felt the same sense of wonder and amazement as he. The question that perhaps whoever made this entrance had made it in madness never entered his mind, Rral never gave the thought time to form, within seconds he was bounding into the dark entrance, his tired limbs filled with renewed vigor.
Deep and deep the tunnel seemed to lead, as though the entrance led to the heart of the mountain. As Rral ran he felt it only seemed appropriate that such a passageway was needed, grand artifacts demanded a grand hiding spot. It wasn't long before Rral reached an open chamber so large that the light from his torch didn’t even pierce the edges of it.
As soon as the mage among them arrived and cast sorcerous light in the hall, tears fell from Rral's eyes. Treasures were piled high all among the room, ancient tomes, golden items, weapons that Rral couldn't even identify, a true wonder for the mind. The group began to spread out among the cavernous room, touching, grabbing all they could, making preliminary claims to goods. Jokes were exchanged, laughter filled them for the first time in a while.
It was the youngest among them that was the first to fall. None of them could truly say when they awoke the Sleeper, but he made his presence known very quickly. Death descended so quickly upon the party that Rral scarcely knew what was happening before it was too late.
The melodious, but somehow impossible words that implied sorcery began to echo and whisper through the chamber, slow at first, quiet, but suddenly it was a symphony of sounds, a cacaphony of multiple voices, bouncing off the walls, so that none of them could locate where exactly the voice was coming from.
Many among them expected the magic to be coming from their own mage, that was before they heard the shriek of their youngest, accompanied with a blaze of fire. Where the young dwarf had stood was left only a husk of burnt meat, smoke and ash.
Panic spread among the dwarves, immediately they turned to run for the exit, only to be met with invisible walls, blocking the entrance they had used only minutes ago to walk into their own tomb.
Their own mage began his own magical song as fast as he could, anything to try to combat the force that assailed them, but he was quickly overmatched, his song drowned out by the unknown figure that attacked them. He was the second to fall, and with him the spell of light he had cast. Darkness returned to the chamber, the only points of light brought by those torches still lit, scattered among the place now.
As Rral made his way to the closest abandoned torch he heard the screams and cries of his companions around him. Fear now possessed him, the animal within taking over. His heart raced in his chest, it felt like a ball of iron within him, weighing him down. His legs felt like dead weight, and the dread-sense of imminent death was now upon him. His breathing was heavy, the harder he tried to quiet it, the louder it seemed. Involuntarily his lips began to quiver as he heard the last scream of his companions, and the sorcerous song of their unknown enemy stopped.
"H-hello?"
Rral's voice echoed around the chamber, and was met with no return. The others, they were all dead, they'd all been killed, but had they taken out their attacker with them? Rral didn't hear any movement in the chamber, he didn't even hear breathing apart from his own. Perhaps it was safe now, maybe the danger was gone.
Rral stayed in the same spot until his own torch went out, the oil on the rag all but burnt out. It was then that Rral heard the last voice he would ever hear again.
"Will you help me, friend?"
The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, the same voice which had sung it's deadly song. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant voice, it was deep, powerful, and ancient. Rral felt his bowel loosen, and a cry rise in his throat. He turned his head all about, hoping to make out any sign of his attacked from the eternal darkness that now surrounded him.
"It seems I've lost something very important to me, perhaps you can help me get it back..."
"Any-anything, anything you want! I can help you find it, I-I know I can!"
A laughter accompanied the end of Rral's fearful and pitiful speech. The laughter a parent might give to a child who’d made a seemingly obvious point.
"I know you can my friend, I know you can."
That was when Rral felt the hand descend upon his shoulder, and Rral knew that attached to that hand was a being that he had no hope against. Rral could feel his legs give out underneath him as he fell to his knees, tears now running freely over his cheeks and into his beard.
Rral's screams echoed through the chamber for what seemed like days before finally the life within him was extinguished. Terrible, dark deeds met Rral before the end, deeds that would make the bravest man cry, that would reduce the strongest of hearts to a quivering mess.
Some time later the Sleeper from within stepped into the cold crisp air of the mountains, and inhaled the first breath of fresh air he had in a long time. It felt good to be free.
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Posted: Sat Mar 27, 2010 2:07 pm
The cold, harsh sting of the high mountain air would have exhilarated most people, a fresh experience that despite the chill climate, warms the soul. Drak’silithius felt none of this. His black and aged eyes scanned the horizon. There was so little he remembered of this place, why was he here? And yet at the same time he remembered rock, mountains, peaks and cliffs. There was so little he could recall, but at the same time so much information flooded his head, just not the information he wanted. It felt as though he grasped at straws, and while he never found the right one, he always returned with handfuls.
Drak raised his arm in the air before him, holding it before his eyes, as though he was examining an item for purchase, twisting it and turning it, looking for impurities. The naked flesh grew paler in the cold, the hairs on his arm rising.
Was that what they were called, hairs? Or was it fur?
He remembered blood, the life fluid that ran through his body. Facts and statements about his physical sense were beginning to return, but still no memories. Frustration and anger painted their expressions across Drak’s previous emotionless face. He could remember the basics, the ways he used his tongue to make certain sounds, words, language. The sorcerous words, and the metaphysics he needed to accompany them with. He could even feel familiar twitchings in his leg, the way he would shift his right leg back over his left in battle, but no memories.
What does that make me? A man with no history is no man, he is but a beast. Am I a beast?
Drak examined his naked body, staring at himself for a lengthy time. He was still groggy from his sleep, his mind was only just beginning to work after centuries of sleep. It was strange, the way certain parts of his mind worked faster than others, the way his familiarity with combat and speech seemed to flow naturally, but the pathways for logic seemed to take longer.
Logic. There was a word he remembered, logic was something that only man possessed, he could be no beast.
He remembered awakening from his sleep though, to find the small troop of dwarves that had invaded his dwelling. He knew he’d felt the need to extinguish them immediately, the driving need to kill, the same way man feels the need to propagate, the same way a bird feels the need to fly, Drak had known only a burning desire to eliminate.
But it hadn’t just been that, had it? No, the one dwarf, the last, there was the need to punish him especially, not just kill him.
Drak could remember his face vividly; the memories of the others were already fading, becoming lost to the vast annals of his mental library. But the face of that last dwarf, there was something about it that held it in Drak’s mind, the way the fear sparked in his eyes, the way despair reeled from his like stench from a rotting body. Even the subtle tones in his voice, Drak could remember them all, but that wasn’t the only sound of pain he could remember.
Like a tide of memories Drak heard and saw a thousand different victims sweep through his memory. Rape, murder and torture befell all the people Drak remembered, and perhaps worse, it had been him that had done it all. It was a thought that caused Drak a pause, like a choking in his train of thought.
What have I done?
It was a simple question, but a deep one, like the striking of a grand bell the phrase rang out throughout Drak’s head, it was all he could think of, no matter how hard he tried to change his train of thought, it always returned to this, like a maddening wailing of a child, it kept repeating over and over. Drak thought he would lose his mind, until all of a sudden his mind presented a counter statement, one that eased the gripping tension that had been forming around Drak’s focus.
To remember. Pain, suffering, these are the true memories. What was it the elders had said? Evil leaves it’s own special scar on the soul, and a scar’s mark can never truly be removed.
The thought comforted Drak. Of course he had committed those acts, to remember. It felt like such an obvious answer, how could he keep track of the rest of his memories if he didn’t scar them upon himself. There was so much to try to place, like the many pieces of a jigsaw, without landmarks it would be impossible to navigate.
It wasn’t like Drak was committing truly terrible acts anyway, the beings that suffered were lesser than him, they lacked the brain he had, and they lacked any real capacity for emotions and passions. Drak almost felt justified in punishing them; they didn’t deserve to exist. Disgusting excuses for life, it practically polluted the honor that it was to live, that such lesser beings could propagate so freely and exist in so great a numbers.
Drak stepped off the ledge without thinking, his mind acting off it’s own accord. But rather than fall and tumble over the distance, Drak hung over the air as though he walked on solid ground. With a moment’s thought, Drak remembered how this was possible, and he took another step, this one lower, and began to descent from the mountain peak. With the cold wind brushing over his naked body, Drak’silithius made the first steps in his re-entrance to the world of men.
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Posted: Wed Mar 31, 2010 3:05 pm
The world of men was highly overrated, as were most things that were related to humans. The power the surged through the mountains resonated from the beginning of time, when magic was everywhere and in everything.
Jascen missed those times. Far too many of the Angels that had rousted on high had fallen from their grace. Their scrambled to regain their footholds on the material plane was painful to watch. Having always been of this world, and dimension in bits and pieces here and there, he was more aware of the contrasts between the times.
His upturned lavender eyes watched a humanoid walk on air. Air bender? Demon? Yet another angel falling from grace? He was reminded of his Zaquiel, of whom he hadn't seen in a long time. He was dreading explaining how it was that he remained well fed when his lover had been away.
He was a demon, the fallen one knew what it was that Jascen was capable of without regret or remorse. Those were human emotions that lead down a path of self destruction. For those that lived longer than a century, the small things faded over time in significance.
He stretched his large black leather wings, the claw tips dug into the rocks to hold his balance against the side of the mountain. He felt that the remoteness of this location allowed him enough freedom to assume his natural demonic form.
Who out here would complain? And if they did, who would listen?
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Posted: Tue Apr 06, 2010 8:29 am
Descending a mountain took surprisingly little time for one who took the most direct route down, through the air. Drak didn’t even notice the dangerous pitfalls and precarious ledges his awakeners had had to move over just to reach him. Occasionally his footfalls would bring him over the broken body of one of their foe, only a few sparse bones and remnants of clothing left now, animals having claimed the rest. Perhaps on a better day this would have stoked the fires of his ego, goaded him to believe he truly was greater than these men, or perhaps not.
That was Drak’s problem. He didn’t remember even if he should be proud of this display to reach him. It was one of the many problems circulating around his mind, spinning around and around, unanswered. Why was it he could remember only the pain, the suffering, but nothing else, not even his own family. Did he have a family at one time? It seems like such a long time ago, he could hardly remember. How could he have ever been loved, and who was he, more importantly.
Although it took Drak a lot less time to get down from the peak walking on air than it would have on earth, the peak was still very high, and the mountain range seemed to spill onto the horizon forevermore. Drak entertained the idea that perhaps this was all that was left of the world now, perhaps those dwarves were the only things left alive, and he’d killed them in his awakening, creating his own little personal hell. That was just an idea though, one Drak could dismiss as easily as the rest of the ones that plagued him so.
He knew he was going to have to stop for the night, so his mute walking became more goal-oriented. His dark eyes scanned left and right for flat ridges, sheltered spots that would be more comfortable to endure through the night. He walked for a while, before he noticed a small cave in an outcropping a few hundred meters below him. He made quick for it, eager to rest for the day. It was funny, how after years of sleep, he still desired the nurturing restoration that it could afford.
The cave seemed to have been used recently, perhaps even by the dwarves. There was no sign of any animal living here nightly, not that that concerned Drak, but it was always nicer to know if one was going to be interrupted during sleep or not. He had a creeping feeling that there had been eyes other than his own on him while he’d walked. Perhaps that was the old age or madness seeping in, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
Still, Drak’silithius didn’t want to take any chances, and so it was here in this empty cave that he curled his naked form around itself, trying to pry heat from any nook or crevice he could. He knew the cold would never kill him, but it was preferable to be warm rather than cold, the cold of a failing body never met well with Drak. It was here he set his eyes upon the cave mouth, and his ears to the wind rushing into the cavern, listening for any noise, maybe he’d wait a few hours before nodding off, just to be safe.
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Posted: Wed Apr 07, 2010 3:45 pm
The Last Pedigree The cave seemed to have been used recently, perhaps even by the dwarves. There was no sign of any animal living here nightly, not that that concerned Drak, but it was always nicer to know if one was going to be interrupted during sleep or not. He had a creeping feeling that there had been eyes other than his own on him while he’d walked. Perhaps that was the old age or madness seeping in, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Still, Drak’silithius didn’t want to take any chances, and so it was here in this empty cave that he curled his naked form around itself, trying to pry heat from any nook or crevice he could. He knew the cold would never kill him, but it was preferable to be warm rather than cold, the cold of a failing body never met well with Drak. It was here he set his eyes upon the cave mouth, and his ears to the wind rushing into the cavern, listening for any noise, maybe he’d wait a few hours before nodding off, just to be safe.
It was the whole bad boy persona thing. He couldn't resist it. He's once provoked a Fallen Angel to beat the hell out of his comrade in a fit of jealousy. Just because he could, and he liked the idea of being fought over.
He crawled to the mouth of the cave, and popped his head over the upper edge. His jet black hair flopped down to hang all around his impish looking face, that wore a s**t eating grin.
"Either you lost a bet, or something ate your clothes. I'd offer to help you, but I think I'll stay here and stay at you for a bit. Been awhile since I've seen a naked man running around in the wilderness."
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Posted: Wed Apr 07, 2010 9:02 pm
Drak kept his head focused on the rock floor in front of him as the demon spoke, and although he drank in every word, every small nuance, he kept his gaze fixated upon where it lay. While most people would have turned to observe who was talking to them, Drak did not. He remained like a figure of stone, allowing a pause to grow between them.
Pauses were wonderful things, they allowed the person on the end of them to worry, sweat out whether they'd been heard or simply ignored. He had of course heard Jasen, he was just simply mulling over what had been said. Perhaps he should punish this demon too. Were demons on the same level of humans? His mind told him no, but his heart told him the demon was still below him. After a good minute or so of silence Drak's lips cracked open,
"Tell me, Demon, do you know who I am?"
Draksilithius' voice was deep and reverberant around the cavern walls, as though it was the cave speaking, and not the figure crouched on the floor at all. It was a deep question, and phrased to be so. He let the question hang in the air after asking it, another pause. If Jasen tried to answer, he'd find himself promptly cut off by Drak's next question, but Drak had a feeling the question would catch the demon off guard.
"I know so little, but I know this is but a mere husk I wear, I am no man. No man could have done what I've done, have seen what I have seen. I've committed terrible things, dark child. I've seen immeasurable suffering committed with my own hands, a thousand lives choked out, a thousand times, and every time the same deadened look creeps into my memories.
How could any man do this? I remember too much, too much for one life time, but perhaps I don't remember. Do you think that's possible? Do you think these memories could be false?"
Drak's voice had remained fairly monotonous throughout the whole of his small dialogue, but towards the end his pitch had begun to rise, and his voice grew louder. The muscles lying taut under the frame of his skin began to twitch and shift. It seemed one second he was crouched around himself, and the next he was on his feet, his dark eyes staring directly into Jasen's. His naked frame hanging against the darkness of the cave, the stark contrast outlining his magnificent frame.
"Am I in hell? Is this where I've been delivered after committing so much evil? What do you know of this place? Do you know my face? Surely you must know, what else would you be doing in this forsaken land?"
Drak'silithius had advanced towards the demon now. His body seemed so frail, but his eyes told a different story. The fury of power burned deep within his pitch cores. If Jasen looked carefully he'd see the faint glimmer surrounding Drak, perhaps some sort of defense or aura.
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 3:13 pm
The silent treatment was a marvelous technique for one of the younger races. For someone like Jascen who had lived so long that he'd forgotten how old he was centuries ago, it was a blip on the screen for sinking a battleship. He had nothing but time to wait out the man, and a few interesting charms to trap him inside of the cave until he begged to be released. If they held, and he wasn't resistant to them.
Personally, Jascen would like to see the arrogant p***k beg, but that was just his personal preference. Having a man on his knees in front of Jascen begging, usually led to other antics. Where really big, heavy, and thick censor bars would come crashing down on his fun quicker than a prostitute moved onto the next John.
"Who you are? Naked guy in a cave with a sexy voice?" he ventured an answer to the rhetorical question at hand. His hand covered his mouth to stifle the giggle that escaped from him.
"I am not your judge, nor am I your salvation. I was tooling around after popping up from the Underdark to catch up with any good gossip. This is the material plane, and though it may feel like hell, it is indeed not."
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Posted: Fri Apr 09, 2010 4:13 pm
Drak'silithius was taken aback from Jascen's comments. His body reeled away from the demon at the comments, like a child struck from a loving parent. Symptoms of confusion knitted their way into Drak's features as he examined Jascen with scrupulous attention, looking in confusion and interest, before finally his facial features slackened, giving him a void look.
"I'm sorry demon, It has been a long time since I last awoke, and I don't seem to remember this 'Underdark' you speak of. Perhaps you could tell me more about it, I would enjoy to hear your tale, and gossip, very much."
Drak motioned to the interior of the cave with a welcoming gesture, as though he was inviting an old friend into his home. The cave was cold and uninviting, the heat had been sapped from the rock years ago, and continued to rob any occupant of warmth from their body. If Jascen were to reach out and touch Drak, instead of the familiar warming embrace of another body, Drak would feel no more alive than the bare rock face he indicated Jascen to sit at
"I just can't seem to remember very much, do you ever find that? That things begin to escape you as you age?"
Drak would sit on the stone cave floor, awaiting Jascen to sit opposite him, and begin talking. Drak's gaze was focused on where he wanted Jascen to sit, until then he remained still as stone.
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Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 6:47 pm
The Last Pedigree Drak'silithius was taken aback from Jascen's comments. His body reeled away from the demon at the comments, like a child struck from a loving parent. Symptoms of confusion knitted their way into Drak's features as he examined Jascen with scrupulous attention, looking in confusion and interest, before finally his facial features slackened, giving him a void look. "I'm sorry demon, It has been a long time since I last awoke, and I don't seem to remember this 'Underdark' you speak of. Perhaps you could tell me more about it, I would enjoy to hear your tale, and gossip, very much."Drak motioned to the interior of the cave with a welcoming gesture, as though he was inviting an old friend into his home. The cave was cold and uninviting, the heat had been sapped from the rock years ago, and continued to rob any occupant of warmth from their body. If Jascen were to reach out and touch Drak, instead of the familiar warming embrace of another body, Drak would feel no more alive than the bare rock face he indicated Jascen to sit at
"I just can't seem to remember very much, do you ever find that? That things begin to escape you as you age?"Drak would sit on the stone cave floor, awaiting Jascen to sit opposite him, and begin talking. Drak's gaze was focused on where he wanted Jascen to sit, until then he remained still as stone.
There was a good chance that this was all an elaborate trap, but it was a game that he was willing to play along with. His hooves made loud noises when he walked, he could have taken the time to mask the sound, but there didn't seem to be much of a need for that now.
He was out in the open, and had been invited to join this man.
His full lips quirked to one side into a smirk. Yep, he was going to enjoy picking this man's brain apart. He had been through a bit of an experience if he was losing bits and pieces of his memory.
"Jascen. The name is Jascen, and as for my memory."
He squatted down on the cavern floor, opening his palm up to release a purple ball of flame onto the ground between them. It lit up, and heated up the cave nicely.
"It's a catch and release policy. I forget because I choose not to waste the present with bits of the past that aren't relevant. You are alone in this place, yet you act as though you expect to be jumped. Your story sounds much more promising than any gossip I might hold."
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Posted: Sat Apr 10, 2010 10:41 pm
Drak'silithius had been following the movements of Jascen as he sat on the floor, studying, perhaps even learning. However, as soon as Jascen had finished speaking, his gaze had trailed off, looking at a spot close to Jascen's feet. Drak looked as though he was deep in thought, lost in a puzzle that had so far eluded him.
"I wish I could tell you my stories, but I'm afraid I don't seem to remember them. Anything, really, just certain...particulars"
This last word was said with hesitance, he'd already mentioned the particulars that filled his mind. His gaze unfocused from the floor, and for a moment it looked as though Drak'silithius had gone from his body, and this was true to a point. His mind wandered, looked through vast memories, corpses and pain were all he could think of. With a rapid succession of blinks Drak's attention was brought back to the here and now.
"Jascen, will you be my friend? I need a friend here, now, in this world. It seems I am alone, all alone. I don't remember very much, and I feel so very weak and powerless. I have no destiny, no direction, no familial ties, nothing. I am the poorest of all the beings, so if you'll be my friend, I must ask you a favor..."
Drak's voice trailed off, a pause hung in the air again, before his eyes suddenly snapped to meet Jascen's again. There was something curious about Drak's eyes. The white was all but sapped from them, dulled to a dark and polluted black, almost indistinguishable from the pupil that dominated the center of his eye
"...will you help me remember?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 12, 2010 10:12 am
Jascen listened to the man's words, amusement dancing across his face. He kept it turned down, half sheltered by his thick glossy black hair. He could feel the weight of the man's stare settle down on his shoulders heavily.
Friend. Did he know what he was asking of Jascen? He could just see Silvermoon turning over in his shallow grave, and Zaq turning a pretty shade of mottled red and pink after he'd told him that he'd met a 'friend'.
"And pants. You have no pants on sir, and as your newly found friend I feel obligated to tell you that if you insist on mingling with the humanoids, if you were a woman you could run around nake with little reprisal, but as a man..."
Jascen scooped up a handful of darkness, then blew it over to the man on the other side of the fire. It hugged his hips, and coated his legs down to his ankles. Two oval shapes of flesh stood out on his butt, that being an expression of Jascen's sense of humor.
"You look as though you've been corrupted. Normally I'm asked to help people forget things, not remember them. What is it that you want to remember so badly?"
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 4:51 pm
Stepping off of the train, the pair of leather thong sandals may not have been the smartest of choices to wear into the mines. Time was moving on and he couldn't worry about his feet being cold at the moment, for Minion had to pick up his gear that had been forced to be placed in a separate car for safety of other travelers. The ride had been superb, Minion had spent the entire ride absorbed by the droll scenery and landscape that was foreign to him. Two aspects in particular had caught Minion's notice, the first being the change in color of the ground. Minion was not a good student in any aspect, geology was not there as a resource to use, leaving him mesmerized by the slight changes. The second feature was the way the ground was shaped. He had seen cliffs before and understood that, but for the ground to rise at steep angles and then to roll for no apparent reason, Minion was totally confused. The idea that the earth moved was revolutionary to him and there was still doubt in his mind about the facts. It must have been the work of some monstrous force that moved the stones into these positions, not this 'tek-ton-ic slates' or whatever they were.
Before he had time to continue his thoughts, Minion found himself at the car where he had stowed his gear, and was glad that there was a decent security system in place to avoid theft of traded goods. Searching his white pants pocket for a moment, Minion worked on locating the receipt for his purchase of space on freight. Finding it in his left pocket, Minion uncrumpled it and presented it to an attendant who called another part of the staff to grab the specified cargo. Minion wanted desperately to get his gauntlets himself, but procedure prevented him from moving any further. Refraining from taking any drastic actions, Minion tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the attendant to return. One minute, then two, then three... it was taking forever. Exasperated, Minion almost lashed out on the current security when he saw his travel cloak, came into view.
Grateful for having the gauntlets back in his possession, Minion quickly made his way inside the cave, and at first had trouble seeing, it was so dark inside compared to the bright desserts of Strata. Rubbing his eyes, the gradual change in perception helped him to feel slightly more relaxed, if that was possible. Anticipation ran high and the unknown was a great thriller. Smiling to himself, Minion moved over to a wall of the cavern, not quite inside yet, but out of the light of the sun. Setting down the travel cloak, he got to work in unpacking it.
The first part was easy, untying the strings that had been wrapped around it to prevent the contents from coming out. Taking the string in one hand, Minion pulled on it slowly, rotating the bundle and slowly unwound the cord. He stopped after a fourth of it was finished and opened the cloak and looked at the mess of buckles and straps that had been attached to one another. While it had been successful in preventing the gauntlets from clanking around more than they had, it was a pain to undo. Working slowly and steadily, Minion fumbled with the straps and the unusual contortion in which they were bound. Finishing the first quarter, Minion moved onto the second. Just as complicated as the first part, if not more so that the top part of it was loose. Tediously he worked out the kinks in the leather straps and readjusted the straps to a loose setting. Eventually Minion succeeded in removing the bottom half of the gauntlet set from his cloak and instantly kicked off his sandals. Without hesitation, Minion slipped on the 'socks' which were the support for the gauntlets, and laced them up. They were two front back sections, one peer leg, that reached up above his knees, and had a few hundred fine metal plates on the front and at up to below his knee on the rear. They were held in place by a pair of cord each. It started at the bottom, and was split in half, then the cord crisscrossed over itself, lacing up the side until it reached the middle of his thigh where it would hang loss until l he got the upper section of his gauntlets on.
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 7:25 pm
Reyin Nova wasn't the kind of kid who liked to stay still for any length of time, let alone be confined to a single train car for the entirety of a five hour train ride. He managed to entertain himself well enough by watching movies or listening to music on his digital media player, but Reyin was an outdoorsy, extreme sports kind of guy. Movies were fine and all once and a while, but only right before bed, not prior to the beginning of what was sure to be a grand adventure.
Currently Reyin had stashed his only form of entertainment into his backpack, choosing instead to lay out on an empty bench and form an impromptu pillow with his hooded sweatshirt. It wasn't comfortable enough to sleep in, but it gave him incentive to run over things one more time in his head.
Okay, so...found this flyer looking for help from adventurers. Contacted the guy, found out it was some jeweler who, crazy enough, lived just down the street from Misec's old bar. Talked to him, pointed out my excellent resumé, and got the job. Guy told me to buy a train ticket and meet him at...
Reyin rolled over from his side and tucked his hands behind his head before narrowed his eyes at the ceiling of the car he was in. Had he not been paying attention to what the guy had told him? No, he had to have been, it was the first job he had lined up in months, there was no way he could have forgotten such a small little detail like what stop to get off at.
It was somethin'...Somethin' with a P? Port Llast? No...that's not a real place. What the hell is Port Llast from, anyway? Some sort of video gam--FOCUS. Where are you getting off?
Just then, as if by some form of divine intervention, the intercom directly over Reyin's head crackled to life.
"Next stop, Tyr Donian station. Exit will be the doors to my right. Thank you for traveling Gaiatrak, and have a wonderful day." Sounds right.
Reyin shrugged his shoulders and stood up, performing a rather lackadaisical stretch routine before throwing his sweatshirt back on over his head and grabbing his luggage.
Most of Reyin's adventuring equipment was still stowed in his rather large duffel bag, which probably explained why he showed a small amount of strain when it came to rolling the thing out from underneath the bench he was sitting on and even more effort when lifting it off the ground. His backpack, incredibly light by comparison, was already slung across his back by the time he got the rest of his belongings arranged.
"And so our hero sets off on another adventure..."
The five foot eleven, athletic-looking, blonde college-aged young man looked rather physically burdened by all of the crap he was carrying off the train, but one look into his eyes and people could just tell that he was as free a spirit as there ever was.
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Posted: Thu Apr 15, 2010 9:42 pm
v-v Stepping off of the train, the pair of leather thong sandals may not have been the smartest of choices to wear into the mines. Time was moving on and he couldn't worry about his feet being cold at the moment, for Minion had to pick up his gear that had been forced to be placed in a separate car for safety of other travelers. The ride had been superb, Minion had spent the entire ride absorbed by the droll scenery and landscape that was foreign to him. Two aspects in particular had caught Minion's notice, the first being the change in color of the ground. Minion was not a good student in any aspect, geology was not there as a resource to use, leaving him mesmerized by the slight changes. The second feature was the way the ground was shaped. He had seen cliffs before and understood that, but for the ground to rise at steep angles and then to roll for no apparent reason, Minion was totally confused. The idea that the earth moved was revolutionary to him and there was still doubt in his mind about the facts. It must have been the work of some monstrous force that moved the stones into these positions, not this 'tek-ton-ic slates' or whatever they were. Before he had time to continue his thoughts, Minion found himself at the car where he had stowed his gear, and was glad that there was a decent security system in place to avoid theft of traded goods. Searching his white pants pocket for a moment, Minion worked on locating the receipt for his purchase of space on freight. Finding it in his left pocket, Minion uncrumpled it and presented it to an attendant who called another part of the staff to grab the specified cargo. Minion wanted desperately to get his gauntlets himself, but procedure prevented him from moving any further. Refraining from taking any drastic actions, Minion tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for the attendant to return. One minute, then two, then three... it was taking forever. Exasperated, Minion almost lashed out on the current security when he saw his travel cloak, came into view. Grateful for having the gauntlets back in his possession, Minion quickly made his way inside the cave, and at first had trouble seeing, it was so dark inside compared to the bright desserts of Strata. Rubbing his eyes, the gradual change in perception helped him to feel slightly more relaxed, if that was possible. Anticipation ran high and the unknown was a great thriller. Smiling to himself, Minion moved over to a wall of the cavern, not quite inside yet, but out of the light of the sun. Setting down the travel cloak, he got to work in unpacking it. The first part was easy, untying the strings that had been wrapped around it to prevent the contents from coming out. Taking the string in one hand, Minion pulled on it slowly, rotating the bundle and slowly unwound the cord. He stopped after a fourth of it was finished and opened the cloak and looked at the mess of buckles and straps that had been attached to one another. While it had been successful in preventing the gauntlets from clanking around more than they had, it was a pain to undo. Working slowly and steadily, Minion fumbled with the straps and the unusual contortion in which they were bound. Finishing the first quarter, Minion moved onto the second. Just as complicated as the first part, if not more so that the top part of it was loose. Tediously he worked out the kinks in the leather straps and readjusted the straps to a loose setting. Eventually Minion succeeded in removing the bottom half of the gauntlet set from his cloak and instantly kicked off his sandals. Without hesitation, Minion slipped on the 'socks' which were the support for the gauntlets, and laced them up. They were two front back sections, one peer leg, that reached up above his knees, and had a few hundred fine metal plates on the front and at up to below his knee on the rear. They were held in place by a pair of cord each. It started at the bottom, and was split in half, then the cord crisscrossed over itself, lacing up the side until it reached the middle of his thigh where it would hang loss until l he got the upper section of his gauntlets on. The cavern that Minion got off at wasn't the dark, normal typical cavern. In fact, it was a very wide, open, well lit area with a lot of bustling from the many folks walking around. Dwarves, elves, kitsunes, there was a lot of exotic races here that you didn't normally see in human-infested areas such as Durem and Aekea. Tyr Donian was considered the trading route for Mithral Mountains. Due to all the different resources of metal available, people often came here for either weapony, armor, or accessory. Reyin, too, would see the same scene. They had fifteen minutes to kill, so he could go in if he wanted and look around. Maybe even shop a bit if he had the money.
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