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Thread: Ego Draconis

  1. #26
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    Takesh's Avatar
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    Default A new friend.. ?

    – 20 years ago –

    Maiyu was rushing through the village of Inoua holding a bag in her hands. Her feet splashed on the muddy surface created by the earlier morning rain. She stumbled on the way a few times and each time did her best to protect the bag. The bag withheld cookies which Maiyu had baked all by herself, with her mother. She was going towards the house of an an elderly woman, Naila, who lived in the village.

    Maiyu called Naila ”grandma” even though she wasn't her grandmother, it was just something she had grown to do. Harvest time had just started and the village was bustling with people, all heading to the fields or returning from there. The men coming back from the fields had the strong odor of hard work on them. The odor crept it's way inside Maiyu's nostrils and made it's home there, causing Maiyu to pinch her nose. Once she arrived she started banging Naila's front door like no tomorrow.

    Naila: ”D-dear child! Please do not break down my door!”
    Maiyu: ”Lookie grandma! I brought you cookies!”
    Naila: ”Oh it's you Maiyu! You shouldn't have, I'm the one who is supposed to bake cookies for you.”
    Maiyu: ”I baked them all by myself! With mama!”
    Naila: ”Hah hah.. Such a sweet child. Come on in and I'll serve you some granberry juice.”
    Maiyu: ”YAY!”

    Everything was good back then. Now I'm consumed by hatred and malice.. revenge never brought the satisfaction I yearned.

    Maiyu had one eye open while she lay on the wet, grassy ground on the edge of the forest. It was a real downpour, every drop that fell on her face became only heavier. You could easily picture her crying because of all the rain, truth was that she wasn't however. She was able to move her fingers, nothing else. Her vision was a total blur, she wouldn't be able to make out a person even if they were standing in front of her. Suddenly she felt something on her waist, it was a hand. Was she being robbed.. ? No. The person grabbed Maiyu and placed her on their broad shoulder, it was definitely a man of sizeable build. Soon darkness enveloped Maiyu's eyes again, taking her into a different realm.

    – After 2 days –

    Maiyu tried to open her eyes but the light hurt them so she immediately shut them. After a while, she accustomed to the light. In front of her was standing a Half-Giant, a seasoned one at that. The man had a long curly grey beard which looked like a small cloud of fog. His hair was short and grey like his beard and he possessed rather sizeable horns, curled behind his ears. Maiyu could gather from the man's look that he had gone through his share of battles, he had two scars in the corner of his left eye and one scar right in the middle of his chin. The man had sags under his eyes and wrinkles all over his forehead, it looked like he hadn't gotten sleep for some reason. His eyes were gentle and brown colored.. somehow he seemed familiar to Maiyu. Was this man her saviour?

    ???: ”So.. finally waking up, are we? How you feeling?”
    Maiyu: ”.. Ugh.. like the morning after a night in the Drunken Bear” (an infamous tavern)
    ???: ”Hah hah! Gotta tell ya, you looked like shit when I found you lady. Oh right, the name's Hector. Still remember who you are?”
    Maiyu: ”Maiyu.”
    Hector: ”Maiyu, eh? So.. what's your story? How'd you end up in a remote place like Forest of Whispers, on death doors to top it off?”
    Maiyu: ”Long story.”
    Hector: ”Not a talkative one, are you?”
    Maiyu: ”You guessed right. Thank you for saving me but I need to lea-.. Argh!!
    Hector: Hold still!! You're not going anywhere with those wounds! You just gotta lay down and let your body heal itself first before you even think about leaving.”

    Maiyu's wounds weren't healed yet, not even close. For now she just had to stay as this Hector's guest. She didn't like it all but it was thanks to Hector that she was saved. Hector's hut was a small one, it was made of sturdy wood which gave it a home-like feeling. There was a bear pelt on the floor, facing a fireplace which was lit. Maiyu was on Hector's bed which was next to the fireplace, in the corner. There was a single chair on the bear pelt and a small desk in the other side of the room. There were some papers scattered on the desk, most likely letters, and an ink bottle on top of them.

    The head of a stuffed deer hanged over the fireplace, it was the first thing that would catch your attention when entering Hector's hut. Hector himself was sitting by the desk, writing something. He looked quite caught up with the writing, perhaps he was writing into his diary how he had just saved a damsel in distress? Then again Maiyu couldn't picture Hector having a diary, it was a tad too girly for a man of his build. A large axe and a bow were resting next to the front door, most likely hunting gear. Hector was no doubt a hunter who sold his goods somewhere, perhaps in Cyre. Suddenly the writing came to a halt and Hector's eyes locked onto Maiyu.

    Hector: ”Feeling better yet?”
    Maiyu: ”Not really.”
    Hector: ”Hmmh. Well I need to go sell a few pelts in Cyre soon so stay put, you hear me?”
    Maiyu: ”Sure.”
    Hector: ”By the way, how can you even see under that hood? Why not take it off?”
    Maiyu: ”I prefer it like this. Do I need a better reason?”
    Hector: ”No, of course not. So care to even tell me where you come from?”
    Maiyu: ”South.”
    Hector: ”You gotta be kidding me. That's the same as introducing yourself only as a woman!”
    Maiyu: ”.. Village of Inoua.”
    Hector: ”Hmm.. I've been there on my journeys. It's a peaceful place.”
    Maiyu: ”Is.. the village still there?”
    Hector: ”Yeah, it's still there. You going back there?”
    Maiyu: ”.. No. I don't belong there anymore.”

    Hector nodded and left for Cyre soon after that. Maiyu stayed in the hut and tried to get some sleep on the mean time. Her dreams were filled with nightmares though so she couldn't sleep much. The carnage brought by her own hands haunted her, the only good thing about that was the proof that she hadn't become completely emotionless. Hector's hut wasn't far from Cyre but it would take an hour or two to get there by walking.

    – The next day –

    It was around noon, Hector was firing up the fireplace since it was a rather cold day for some reason. Maiyu suddenly shot up and cringed. Her body was reacting violently due to Sanguin blood withdrawal. She started coughing and bloody veins started to appear around her eyes and face. A high fever also took over Maiyu, taking away all her strength. Hector got startled from the sudden outburst and quickly tried to examine what was wrong. Maiyu was able to spurt a few words even though the pain was unimaginable.

    Maiyu: ”Need.. Sanguin.. blood..”
    Hector: ”You can't be serious! It's poisono-”
    Maiyu: ”Q-quick. .!!”
    Hector: ”.. Fine! Hang in there! I'll be back shortly!”

    Fortune was not with Hector today. Not a single Sanguin was in sight. Hector cursed and just started running towards west. He had no idea where Sanguins could be found but he had to try at least. He kept running and running, desperately trying to find at least one Sanguin. He even tried shouting to attract attention. After running far enough he finally found a pack(10+) of Sanguins. Sadly a pack was too much for a single man. He couldn't possibly walk out from a fight against so many. He still had to try something so he shot a single arrow into one of the Sanguins, hoping it would turn the beast's attention towards Hector. Sadly, all the Sanguins turned their attention at Hector as the arrow swept past.

    Hector: ”Damn.. this is bad..”

  2. #27
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    kain222's Avatar
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    A shambling, twisted, broken shell of a person flung itself at Wulfhelm, the sunset's rays taking on a more sinister edge as they illuminated the horrifying visage in a vivid, sickly orange.

    The lumbering barbarian was too slow, however, and found himself hurling forwards as the wily monstrosity latched itself onto his back, it's stick-thin legs latching around him and shunting him forward, the barbarian only barely managing to stop himself before he was hurled forward towards the portal, which lurched sickeningly forward at him, it's swirling, azure depths threatening to drag them back to their twisting, vortex-like hold.

    A glint of silver caught the half-giant's eye as he tried to compose himself against the attack of the monster – a dagger, metallic and curved like a tiger fang, shone in the half-light of the evening. The beast let out a horrifying, gurgled screech towards the roof, the deadly object clutched within it's skeletal, clawed talons. Wulfhelm smelt it's breath as it nearly retched in it's face, the horrible stench of carrion choking his throat and singing his nose with rotten fire.

    “ENOUGH!” Wulfhelm yelled, swinging a lumbering hand back towards the stick-thin monster – although the blow was clumsily placed and slowed by the toxin that was seething it's way through his atrophic muscles, it still connected. With a panicked screech, the sickly beast was sent hurtling from the Half-giant's back, launching itself into the air as Wulfhelm's arm connected with all the force of a falling tree-trunk.

    Wulfhelm staggered lazily around to stare at his assailant, barely able to keep his raggedy, gasping breath under control. It felt like his muscles were being clogged up by taxing grit, and that his lungs were being compressed – squeezed by the hand of some invisible vice, filled with empty air that failed to rejuvenate him or beg his body sweet release from the lack of air.

    That's when he saw what had struck him – and what had horrifyingly butchered his assassins below. It stood there: A mere hollowed husk of a person. Green, sickened skin matted it's spindly, bone-thin frame. Ragged tatters of dead hair clung desperately to it's head, strands of the fragile, crackling stuff toppled off in clumps. It's eyes were bloodshot, turned a violent, anguished crimson lashed with scarlet veins and raw, bruised eyelids that flooded with black.

    When Wulfhelm looked closer, he realised with a sort of disjointed horror that it was – used to be – a man. One would imagine such a monster scrabbling away in a damp, dimly lit cave – but this bone-thin man was dressed in finely linked chain armor, one of his vehemently shaking hands holding master dagger within it's sapped fingers.

    From one mess to the other... Wulfhelm thought to himself, cursing his luck. If I wasn't so damn... Drowsy...

    It was becoming hard for the giant to even piece his thoughts together as he felt the venom seep into every corner of his body, slowly sapping away that gargantuan strength that had made him famous as the “Mountain Breaker.” - A feared outcome of prophecy to the Kal'Kalak, and a savage mercenary to Heoden. It burned him, turning his veins to acid and setting his blood boiling with sloth.

    The spindly beast screamed and lunged at him once more, swiping out with that deadly-edged blade. Wulfhelm raised an arm to block the blow, but he was too slow, the dagger grazing his arm before recoiling for his jerkin, ripping savagely through wolf hide and glancing off the chain-mail, causing the abomination to reel back from the contact with a high-pitched squeal, almost staggering to the floor in a tangle of yellow limbs.

    Wulfhelm watched with simmering rage as he realised he was bleeding, staring at the scarlet droplets that began to materialize from the cut. Though a sickening nausea overtook him, he realised that the stinging, the bleeding, made him feel less nauseous – pained, but mobile. Then it occurred to him: the sharp edge of that fabled half-giant intelligence kicking in for but a moment.

    Of course! Blood! The venom is in my blood! Wulfhelm stared at the pitiful, sickly wretch, and a surge of anger rose within him. I am not going to be bested by some mere, sickened man because of a few herbs! He simmered, veins popping forth from his neck as his eyes faded over with blood. That barbarian's fury seeping back into his veins like rejuvenating, uncontrollable fire. I am wolf clan! I AM THE SILENT THUNDERS THAT CAUSES THE AVALANCHE! I AM THE TUMBLING ROCKS THAT SHATTER THE NIGHT, THE WHIPPING CRACK OF THUNDER!


    The clansman yelled spite, screaming wild curses and hell towards the roof of the mess hall. He grasped one of his axes, roaring with a herculean effort as he fought through the arthritic poison seeping it's way through his body. He raised the axe to the sky, the metal catching the last of the sunlight's rays in a glorious glint...

    And took the axe to his own arm, rending a gash from shoulder to elbow, as blood burst forth like a great, gory river. The red liquid blasting itself through torn skin and damaged muscle. The giant didn't think, the time for thinking had come and passed. There was only ruthless, immovable determination to not be slain by such a pathetic creature.

    Sickness took hold: He lurched. Bile rose to the back of his throat as his world was dived into a vast ocean of dots and darkness, stunned silence ensued, as everything seemed to fade out of blurred vision: The barbarian was viewing life through a blurred screen of paralytic nausea – all feeling left, as he stood there. His brain not even managing to piece together what was happening, not even as he toppled towards the ground. Not even as he saw the sickened shell of a man let out a blood-curdled imitation of a screech and charge towards him, dagger raised high.

    It all came back to him in an instant.

    “GET... BACK!” Wulfhelm roared. Motion! Glorious, unhindered motion! It ran free through the half-giant's body in glorious liberty, as his powerful, thumping heart shattered back to work, having almost dithered before, it rammed the thick, scarlet liquid through his body with earth-trembling life. He felt like a wolf on the hunt, glorious, unchained! In that moment, Wulfhelm felt what it feels like to hold true strength, and to feel it surge back into his bones, bones that knew it's wrath well: Bones that welcomed it back, and sent his body into a glorious riposte.

    The axe was flung through the air with tremendous force, and the wind around the giant stirred restlessly in such legendary strength. The dagger stood not a chance against the tempered steel and the Goliath power. Sparks flew for a moment, the hellish screeching of metal upon metal, the sound of war, and with a blood-curdling fury, the dagger was cast to the ground like a twig.

    Insolent!” A step forward sent cutlery on the nearby tables jumping in their places, another cup toppling from it's stand and smashing against the floor to join in the chorus of pandemonium strength. “WHELP!” Reversing the axe in his hand, he brought it down like a scorn titan, the screeching monster barely able to avoid it as it scathed it's chest, tearing through the brittle skin – it no longer held that diseased, maddened rage. Instead, it shrieked like a vulture, barely able to do anything apart from scrabble desperately with it's brittle talons.

    Wulfhelm ordered thunderously, that single word holding more booming, resonate power than any other, as he shifted forward, using great, lumbering momentum as he rose, cocking his head forwards as he charged towards the ill wretch's jaw.

    There are many legends about half-giant horns. How they are harder than the strongest steel, how they can cleave through bone and how they are impossible to even carve – holding their natural shape no matter how hard an effort has been made to shape them into a weapon. Some regard this property as signs of the horns being spiritual beings of their own, who would only fight for their beholder – their ungovernable tenacity serving as proof of this. But all knew one thing:

    You do NOT want to be charged by them.

    The horns shattered into the poisoned Oathkeeper's jaw, shattering it completely on impact with a sickening crunch. But it didn't stop there – the horns had lodged themselves firmly into the tattered, ragged flesh and obliterated bone, and as Wulfhelm cocked his head backwards with a blood-curdling yell, the former man went with it.

    It flew upwards, a screeching, wretched, pathetic missile, as the beast collided with the ceiling – decorating it with a brutal splatter of ruby - before thundering back down – light as a feather, yet tumbling towards the floor as a rock. It landed with thunderous impact, it's screech sending even the bravest fliers soaring from their nests. The wild screaming and hooting afterwards dithered into a whimpering, jaw-less groan, and Wulfhelm felt a surge of rage as it stared up at him with soulless, bloodshot pupils.

    A risen foot, and a thundering shake, and the thing's head was no more. Nought but a ruby stain on a scarlet carpet.

    More shrieks echoed from behind him, and he broke out into a wide, wolfish grin.

    “COME AT ME!” He bellowed back at them, and so they did – having dealt with the intruders downstairs, the hollow, sickened horde that had overwhelmed the assassins now charged at Wulfhelm, who stared over his shoulder – watching the tangled mess of putrid, green limbs contrasting with some of the finest armor and weaponry he had ever seen scramble into view. Holding the gargantuan axe in one goliath hand, he faced the oncoming horde.

    Darkness consumed him in a haze of red.

    __________________________________________________ _______________

    Wulfhelm stood as a towering, vengeful giant on the ground floor, although his eyes did not hold the same gargantuan fury – instead, he looked pitifully on the victims of the infected monsters that had attacked him earlier. Normally, he would treat such people with furious anger. But they had not been given a swift death, no. They lay mangled, mutilated. Stretched on the floor in a horrifying mess of tattered clothing, entrails and scarlet fluid. Dead. There was no other description – they had all been living things once, but now they were merely stains on the carpet.

    Lumbering towards one of the corpses, Wulfhelm rummaged around in the entrails – his hands were already sodden in the disgusting, blackened blood of the infected wretches, and he was no stranger to gore. Although the giant was not light of heart, what he saw next made his heart lurch sickeningly.

    There, in the mess, was the amulet symbol of the Fifty-Six Blades, splattered with scarlet – practically dripping with blood. It bore into his mind as a token of what was once before, and the pain of exile – the pain of loosing his own home – struck deep into his mind once more. It was not the same, leaving the Fifty-Six Blades. It had been his own choice, but now they were hunting him.

    Where has my home gone now? Blood-brother, I wonder, if things had been different. If I had heeded your words...

    But those memories had faded now, he could barely even picture the man's beloved face: sometimes the Wolf-clan came back to him in his dreams, ghostly specters. Whispering bitter, spat curses to the half-giant in the night's shadow, coming back to remind of a past that he longed so much, so desperately for. But when he awoke, those images were somehow gone. Buried in the back of his mind to haunt him in another sleepless slumber.


    The half-giant's train of thought was shattered for a moment, as he noticed footprints placed deftly into the soft earth – running away from the tower. Was it perhaps one of the assassins? No, he had only counted three. He knew not of the order that had lain within this tower, nor their ways.

    Escapism caused him to gravitate towards the footprints – the lumbering man taking care not to trample the trail – it was fairly easy to follow: A footprint here, a snag of clothing there – it was of the same, silken make of those monsters within this tower.

    Had one of them escaped? No. These footprints were much to precise: Whoever this was, they were still conscious, still mindful of themselves. They ran with swift grace: Not clumsy, diseased fury.

    His mind turned to the Fifty-Six Blades, and thought of seeking them out, but... No, the old mercenary group seemed to of forsaken him now. He would only find death within their ranks, and whilst he had to find out why, now was not the time. Where would he even start? He was a tracker of the wilds; Not a revealer of plots.

    And so he began to follow the footprints, deep into the forest, whose oak trees seem to sigh, waving their large, brambling branches to warn him back: But the half-giant was a breaker of mountains, and he would do as he pleased.

  3. #28
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    farag0n's Avatar
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    Default ♪.. Arrivin' to port, gettin' off court, such is life of a pirate.. ♫

    Somehow when Renshaw mentioned Cyre, Hiro got a lot more.. attentative. Renshaw could almost spot Hiro's ears twitching slightly, as if he was aiming all his focus to what Rensaw was talking about. Finally once Renshaw kicked the door open, Hiro came out slightly wobbling.
    Not that it was surprising, Hiro was blind and they were still out on the sea. What surprised Renshaw the most was how Hiro was still able to walk even though Bass was steering again. Then Hiro opened his chest of words and asked about their journey to Cyre. He wished to know how they were going to get inside, it was almost like he was doubting that Renshaw even had a plan to get inside. Renshaw laughed out loud and slammed his hand on Hiro's back.

    ”Gyahaha!! Captivity? Me? I'm Captain Renshaw De Morgan, the most fearsome pirate these seas have ever seen! People hear my name and they cower in fear. HA! I send chills down the spine of even the most veteran of warriors!! Kiddo, ain't nothin' out there that could catch me! And I got me a plan y'know, a fine plan indeed! And you, kiddo, will be playin' the main role!”

    Renshaw certainly had that pirate-ish charisma about him. Even though quirky at times, there was no doubt that he wasn't a capable leader. Renshaw dragged Hiro from his arm back on deck where the others were just silently watching. Armin looked like he was about to explode, his face was red and he was twiddling around his blades. Spade was still unconscious but for some odd reason, he had a smile on his face. Buck & Benz were still crying for God knows what reason. Dingle had vanished somewhere and Olben had gone back into the kitchen. Renshaw quickly started barking orders:

    ”OLBEN! Where're them damn disguises?! DINGLE! Replace that pirate flag with a whitey one!! SPADE! WAKE UP!! BA-”
    ”CAP'N!! Ya can't be serious! Ya can't leave me behind!!” Armin shouted out, he couldn't have disagreed more about being left behind. Renshaw was quick to grab Armin from his shoulder and firmly look into his eyes.

    ”I'm placin' the thing I most treasure in this world in yer hands Armin! You're the only one who I trust to do it! Yer my damn first mate for cryin' out loud, so live up to yer name!!”
    ”.. A-Aye, captain!!”
    ”My baby better be fine an' dandy when I get back, ya hear me?!”
    ”Count on it cap'n!”

    Soon Olben came out of the kitchen, clutching a pair of robes in his hands. Both were rather tattered and mud green in color. Renshaw glanced at the robes with disgust and clutched onto his red coat fiercely. Olben shoved both robes to their respective owners' hands. Renshaw had to back down from the force of the shove, Olben was known of his rough way of doing things. Not even the food was spared from his wrath. That's one of the prime reasons why the kitchen looked like a demolition site everytime Olben was done cooking. Ingredients would be splattered all over the kitchen table and walls. It was easy to actually feel sorry for all the poor vegetables and venison that had to suffer in his ruthless hands.

    Renshaw slightly smelled the robe and his face turned into putrid green for a moment. Just where did Olben get these robes? From their.. ”sewage system”? Renshaw coughed a few times and looked at Olben with fury in his eyes. He, an infamous pirate captain known of his red coat and katana, would have to resort to wearing some dirty bum's underwears? This had to be a joke of some kind. Olben kept a pokerface and finally said:

    ”Don' look at me like that. Is not like you smell any better.”
    ”Oh blimey.. this robe.. it smells worse than Buck's arse!”
    ”B-buh.. I thought me arse smells good..” Buck said with a quiet voice.
    ”Bet me arse smells bettah!” Benz claimed and launched his fist right into Buck's face.
    ”O'Really? Lemme smell it!” Buck yelled and leaned over at Benz in order to sniff.
    ”The hell.. ?! You soddin' muttonheads! STOP SMELLIN' YER ARSES!!” Renshaw shouted with a vein almost exploding from his neck.
    ”.. Ahem. What the hell are ya complainin' about?! The worse the smell is, the less people will try to peek out yer face!” Olben said to Renshaw, completely ignoring the two blockheads.
    ”Ugh.. Mother of God.. Haah.. Haah.. fresh air.. YARRRR!!! Some bloody robe won't slow me down! Kiddo! Get your robe on! We're arrivin' soon.”
    ”Does he even know what yer about to do?” Olben asked with his left brow high, taking slight peeks from Hiro out of the corner of his eye.
    ”Eh? Sure. Ya take point once we set foot on land, kiddo. There, now he knows.” Renshaw said while trying to fit in with his new clothes.

    Olben sighed slightly and then looked at Hiro.
    ”You got that lad? Once we arrive, you two will leave the ship an' you're the one who will lead. Our captain here stays behind you, concealing his face as well as he can. If someone gets too curious, be sure to draw their attention away from Renshaw. We both know our captain's going to just get violent if some numbskull starts pokin' around, thus blowin' yer cover.”
    ”Bah! Someone gets too close an' I smash their face in!”
    ”Don't mess this one up, lad. We want our captain back in one piece.”

    Armin was standing a bit further away, sharpening his blades. Once Olben stopped talking, he moseyd behind Hiro and whispered into his ear:
    ”If ya get cap'n in trouble.. I'll make sure you'll be getting a free course of keelhauling and ”walkin' down the plank” with plenty of sharks to play with..” Armin said this with the scariest voice he could come up with.

    That's when Dingle shouted that they would arrive to port in a matter of minutes. Renshaw turned around and glanced at the port town which they were headed. It wasn't a big one, not even close. Only a dozen houses were scattered along the coastline but there were plenty of fishing boats on the dock. It was definitely a fishing town. Renshaw was unsure what the town was called but that didn't really matter much, they weren't going to stay long. Once the ship came to a halt, Buck lassoed a rope and tied the ship to the dock. Benz placed the walkway to dock. Renshaw turned to face his crew one more time.

    ”Keep 'er steady, ya hear me?! Once I gets back, we're gonna have one hell of a party! Well then, kiddo, start movin'. Cyre baby, here we come. .!!”
    Calm down people, it's just me.

  4. #29
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    Vonur looked towards the city, he was now close to the outer walls, after three days of walking. Vonur didn’t mind travelling; he was intrigued by all the new things that he encountered on his journey.

    They sky, what a wonderful, beautiful thing it is, even when its raining Vonur liked to just look up, and take in the fresh air, and look at the ever changing roof of the world.

    Fresh air was new to him too, Vonur had no idea how clean air could taste. Down underground, even in the clean cities, there was still dust everywhere, that’s why lots of dwarves have deep hoarse voices. But now that he entered the open air, breathing was so different, so relaxing.

    Vonur woke up from his daydream when he had reached the gate into the city. He had walked for near an hour in a daydream state. He looked up at the gate, it was big, but he was used to big, even though dwarves are small, their architecture is massive. He went into the city looking around for any signs, or directions he could use to get to a cheap inn for some rest, travelling in the wilderness was a new experience to Vonur, and he was extremely tired.

    He wandered the streets for some time looking for an inn, and was surprised by the amount of people who looked at him. It was less than he expected, he expected everyone to be staring at him, as dwarves didn’t travel above land. But then he saw why nobody was really paying attention to him. Vonur saw a dwarf. 'What is this, a dwarf living above ground.’ He kept walking along the streets, baffled by the dwarf he had seen. He turned a corner into a new street, and there, again, was another dwarve…no, not a dwarf…a group of dwarves. ‘Is there really this many dwarves above ground?’

    He walked staring at the group, with a confused look on his face. One of the dwarves noticed his gaze.

    ???: “Hey, what you want you scum!”

    Immediately the whole group turned to look at Vonur. Vonur, startled by the sudden shout, placed his hand on the hilt of his axe and changed his expression to one of authority. Some of the passers by glanced down at the dwarves, and scurried away quickly.

    One of the dwarves in the group draw his sword, it was a single handed broad sword, not very decorative, and by the looks of it, very well used. At that Vonur drew his own weapon.

    ???: “Are you sure?”

    The one with the sword stepped out from the group and stared at Vonur, who was standing still, ready for a fight. The dwarf ran at Vonur, sword swinging. Vonur switched to twin mode in an instant, and parried the attack to the side with one of his axes.

    Vonur: “Are you sure?”

    With a look of fear in his eyes the dwarf backed away from Vonur, towards his group again.

    ???: “You wont get away with that, scum.”

    Vonur: “Learn to fight, and we will end this like true dwarves should.”

    The group muttering and cursing Vonur, walked away, down an alley, leaving the main street, where a small crowd were now forming. Vonur switching back to Siamese mode to sheath his weapon, started to walk away from the crowd, hoping for no more trouble, especially from the authorities.

    ???: “Hey dwarf, wait.”

    One of the humans in the crowd had shouted at Vonur. Vonur stopped and turned to face the man, who was now jogging up to him.

    ???: “My name is Alistair, and on behalf of the people, who live in this part of Cyre, want to thank you for driving away the Furies. Thank you.”

    Vonur was shocked by the man.

    Vonur: “Ummmm…well…no problem, no thanks needed.”

    Alistair: “But there is, we have been being terrorised by that group for nearly six months now, nothing would shift them, but you have.”

    Vonur: “Ummm…”

    Alistair: “How would you like to stay at my inn for a few days, you look tired? It’s the least I could do.”

    Vonur: “Well….ummmmm…okay then, actually I was looking for an inn.”

    Alistair: “Great, now just follow me it’s just down the street.”

    Vonur followed Alistair down the street, towards an expensive looking building. Vonur had seen this inn, but decided it was too expensive for him.

    They entered the building, it was not big, but not really small either, it was a comfortable size. There was a check in desk at the far wall, and a sofa on the wall beside the door. It was fancy, a few healthy plants around, some expensive looking ornaments, nice wooden floor. Behind the desk stood a woman, Vonur assumed it was Alistair’s daughter; she looked far to young to be his wife.

    Alistair: “Hello sweetie, this is my daughter, Veronica.”

    Veronica: “Hello there.”

    Alistair walked behind the desk and got a book out, Vonur stood in front of the desk.

    Vonur: “Hello, my name is Vonur.”

    Alistair: “That’s a powerful name.”

    Alistair chuckled lightly.

    Alistair: “Now Veronica, go make sure our dwarven suit is ready for our new guest.”

    Veronica: “Okay father.”

    Veronica got out from behind the desk, revealing an extremely short skirt, and a pair of socks, no shoes. Vonur had never seen a human before coming into the city, ‘Did he say the city was called Cyre?’, but he looked at her, intrigued, dwarven women were not as fragile as this woman looked.

    Alistair: “Vonur, okay, there you go now just sign your name here, just have to keep track of guests you see.”

    He turned the big book he had been scribbling in, and handing Vonur a pen, pointing at a line on the page. Vonur took the pen and scribbled his name on the line, with his barely readable, childish, writing.

    Alistair: “Thanks, that’s perfect.”

    He turned the book back to face him, and took the pen from Vonur again. he signed the space beside where Vonur had just signed and closed the book, with a thud.

    Alistair: “So, Vonur, where you from, far from here?”

    Vonur: “The Iron Citadel”

    Alistair looked at him, staring. Vonur got worried, ’What did I do?’

    Alistair: “Really? That’s amazing; I have never seen a true dwarf before, what are you doing here?”

    Vonur was quite shocked, he would have thought that people wouldn’t have seen many dwarves at all, ‘Do the dwarves breed up here?’ he just assumed only dwarves that left the citadel were on the surface, running from there home, dying alone up here.

    Vonur: “Ummmmm…well it’s a long story, maybe another time. Are there many dwarves on the surface?”

    Alistair: “Okay then, I can understand not wanting to share you business, sorry for being nosey. But yeah, there are loads of dwarves on the surface, do you not travel up here much?”

    Vonur: “Well, actually it’s illegal to travel to the surface, unless ordered to by the council, to get someone who left.”

    Alistair just looked at Vonur for a moment. Vonur started fidgeting with the dust in his pockets, feeling awkward.

    Alistair: “Wow…Well then you won’t know anything about the surface?”

    Vonur: “Nope.”

    Alistair: “…okay then, you want me to fill you in a bit?”

    Vonur: “Sure, the more I know the easier it will be to settle in.”

    Alistair motioned towards the sofa, Vonur sat, and Alistair joined him.

    Alistair: “Okay, where to begin…there are loads of dwarves up here, I would think more than who actually live in Iron Citadel, but that’s just an assumption. There are ones living in nearly every city, town and village, except the Elvin cities. There are also some dwarven made villages, where dwarves have settled down together, making a community. They are pretty much treated like any other person, except by some, you will find some racist people up here.”

    Vonur: “Ha, I thought all people on the surface were going to be racist towards me.”

    Alistair: “Well it used to be like that, when I was a child, but nowadays it has changed.”

    Alistair and Vonur continued to talk for a time, eventually it got dark outside, and Alistair stood.

    Alistair: “Wow, time flies when your having fun eh? Well I am going to close up, and go off to bed.”

    Vonur: “Okay, good idea, it’s been a long day, I’m wrecked. Nice chatting with you, and thanks again for the bed.”

    Alistair: “Oh no problem friend, you’re welcome anytime.”

    Vonur headed up the stairs where the rooms were, and Alistair went into the room behind the desk. When Vonur reached the top he realised he didn’t know which room was his. He chuckled to himself, turning to head back down to ask Alistair. At that moment Veronica came out of a room.

    Veronica: “Hey, goodnight Vonur.”

    Vonur turned again, to face her.

    Vonur: “Ah, yes…ummmm…what room in mine?”

    Veronica laughed

    Veronica: “sorry, did father not say, it’s the one at the end of this hall, on the left."

    Vonur: “Thanks.”

    He started to walk towards her, to get to his room, she too walked towards him to get down the stairs.

    Vonur: “Goodnight.”

    Veronica: “Goodnight.”

    They passed each other, and Vonur turned his head to look at her as she walked away, her walk was very attractive to him, he never once thought he could be attracted to such a scrawny figure, ‘I could get used to this.’ He looked forwards again and went to his room, happy.
    RPing, i'm not really sure neil...

    *week later*

    I am Karosath, the almighty destroyer of the royal family MWAHAHAHAHAHA

    *next day*

    NEIL: so gecko hows the RPing
    ME:who is this gecko??? Adress me only as Karosath, the almighty, u peasent

  5. #30
    Norrin Radd's Nerd Rage Reputation: 29
    lokuri's Avatar
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    In your dreams. :p
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    Talking Hiro hardly speaks, yet why is he interrupted every time, even in thought? xD

    It was rather expected that Hiro's comment would be met with a deafening laughter. He would have winced -- it happened plenty of times when he first boarded the ship -- but he was already accustomed to all the shouting and hoopla around him. Renshaw was especially ambitious, possibly because he had to command a crew of rowdy pirates. Still, his sense of humor needed work. It often resulted with sudden violence, like the blow to Hiro's back while he was still regaining his balance. While Renshaw ranted about his magnificence, Hiro was rubbing his nose, which smacked into the ground. Or was it the wall? Just because he was blind didn't mean his head couldn't spin out of control. If he stayed on this ship any longer, Hiro would have a serious case of motion sickness. Oddly, Hiro got the impression that Renshaw noticed none of his blunders, for he was still yapping away by the time stood upright.

    "I beg your pardon, but how may I be of--"

    Once again, Hiro was subjected to abuse. He couldn't be lead by his hand, no. Renshaw decided to yank at his right arm and send him up the flight of stairs at full speed -- at least, fast enough for Hiro to stumble every now and then. Seriously, it was like pirates didn't know how to treat the blind. Luckily, he managed to produce a graceful posture, concealing his nauseousness upon reaching the landing above. Judging from the brisk air and scrambling feet vibrating against the flooring, Hiro was now on the deck. Even though he felt more stable here, something seemed...wrong. For a moment, Hiro thought he would feel more secure back in his cell, rather than "following" Renshaw.

    The first, clear sign that Hiro should feel worried was uttered by Renshaw. Disguises? It was a clever idea, but why would pirates have disguises on hand, especially after Renshaw had just explained how frightening he is? Although Hiro couldn't see Renshaw's typical guise, he assumed it was flamboyant and easily recognizable. Why would such a confident, well-fashioned (in terms of pirates) belittle himself by keeping distasteful costumes? Then again, Hiro hadn't taken into account the preferences of the crew. Actually, their individual characteristics were mostly unknown to him. Perhaps someone amongst them created a scheme involving disguises, and everyone else accepted the idea?

    Then there was the second part to Renshaw's remarks, directed at someone named Armin, the first mate. The latter mentioned something about being left behind, at which Renshaw told him to guard his 'treasure'. Was he talking about his ship? If so, that meant that Hiro would be leaving the sea behind and embarking once again on land. But...just where were they going?! All at once, Hiro was feeling ill again, mostly from overworking his brain. Besides, he needed to focus on the most dire of problems at hand: not puking! Once he reached land -- he had faith that that would be happening soon -- Hiro would never board another ship (with a terrible helmsman) as long as he could avoid doing so. All he wished for was to rest in solitude, in the furthest corner the ship had. Instead, he had to endure the commotion and rough steering for a while longer.

    Unfortunately, his trial of endurance was challenged even further. A fierce odor wafted near his nose, causing Hiro to gag on impulse. He tried to resist by outstretching his arms, keeping the slimy cloth away. Slimy? What was he holding?! Renshaw was even more disheartened, proving that whatever plan set into motion wasn't his original choice. What was so important that the captain would relinquish his power of leadership and submit to...whatever was thrust at them? To make matters worse, Renshaw ordered him to put the supposed robe, his only advise was that he would "take point" once they docked. Did that mean he would take the part of the leader? In unknown lands? Gulping down all his petty qualms, Hiro just decided to go with the flow. Only when he was adjusting the robe properly did someone step up, explaining his role in detail.

    "I see. I shall be Renshaw's mediator, keeping him away from squabbles and calming his nerves on this short voyage. If his companions were to accompany us, we would surely undermine our chances of gathering what this quest requires. Therefore, only the most competent amongst them, the captain, and a scapegoat, myself, can succeed. Rather simple, but--"

    At that point in time, someone inched their way towards Hiro, breathing their hot breath upon his ear. When the words were finally uttered, Hiro was able to distinguish it as the voice of Armin. Armin delivered a threat to him directly, but there were plenty of glares and such to pressure Hiro even before anyone spoke. Surprisingly, once you have your loved ones maimed beyond identification, sharks were nothing more than sharp-toothed guppies in comparison. In other words, he didn't need some threat to carry out the deed of protecting Renshaw. He would do it of his own free will, mostly to repay the time he spent on Renshaw's pride and joy, Neptune's Raider. After all, it wasn't wise to be indebted to a pirate.

    Five to six minutes later, the ship made one final, rapid jerk before bobbing with the calm tide. Renshaw gave his last instructions before the mission commenced. Hiro was already lingering a few feet away when Renshaw finally announced where they were: Cyre. Could this truly be fate? Until that moment, Hiro had planned to inquire about Cyre and move through rumors. Even if finding Cerelis within Cyre would still be a difficult feat, as long as he was walking the right path, the distance that Richelieu kept Cerelis away from Hiro would become shorter and shorter. Currently, though, Hiro had to keep an eye on Renshaw, who seemed ready to fail the mission by acting out.

    Just as Hiro was about to step away from the port, he remembered a crucial detail that could give away even a disguise as vile as the ones he and Renshaw received. Stopping in his tracks and holding up a hand, Hiro turned to Renshaw, reading his location from the aura he gave off. "Renshaw, you must know that a disguise is as credible as your every gesture. If you must go about without notice, do so with a bent back and a hung head. One does not need a keen eye to deduce an individual's true nature. A person's status is marked by the manner of which they carry themselves. Please take heed of how you conduct yourself as well."

    Hoping Renshaw understood, Hiro did as he lectured, slouching his shoulders and tilting his head towards the ground. Why would he need to keep his head raised anyway? Without his eyes, all he could rely on was what he felt and what he heard. Actually, that was quite handy, for a slurred speech and dragged feet meant intoxication. By now, Hiro had a notion that their destination would be a tavern of some sort, a place that would supply enough alcohol to make even Armin merry. That meant that Hiro had to listen for a large crowd of drunkards, fresh from shedding their sober selves. Fortunately, finding a lively tavern wouldn't take too much time. Most of the activity took place around where they docked, meaning boats and fishermen weren't hard to come by. Once you moved along the stone pathways tracing towards various homes, an eerie silence drifted in the air. Occasionally, a woman would stand on her porch to shake dust out of sheets, or a child or two would race to and fro, but men rarely made an appearance.

    At last, the sound of chatter and gurgling for laughter entered his ears. Somewhere nearby, glass shattered upon the ground, and a heated argument was underway. Some ran over to cheer the aggressive brutes on, while others started their own fights. However, the majority seemed to be sobering themselves for another round, a few trustworthy mates trying to dissuade them from overdrinking. Indeed, the main entertainment resided in the building everyone surrounded. Perhaps Renshaw knew that a port town would be the best place to purchase him rum (what else would a pirate drink)? Certainly, it wasn't a bustling city with suspecting folk at every turn. Even if they did run into a skeptical person, they probably would come off as a stiff who couldn't tell his fingers from his toes. The more Hiro pondered on the matter of guarding Renshaw, the less there was to fear.

    "Let's hurry inside--"

    Changing his talking habit wasn't exactly easy, but Hiro didn't hesitate because of his faltered words. When he turned around -- no, even before he turned around -- Hiro knew that Renshaw was no longer by his side. While Hiro could sense Renshaw's presence upon proximity of himself, he had wondered too far for Hiro to locate him. Did Renshaw get lost, or had Hiro made the mistake of losing Renshaw? Either way, he couldn't panic -- at least, not on the outside. For all he knew, Renshaw could have ventured into the tavern on his own, leaving Hiro behind. Another possibility was that Renshaw knew of another place to get his share of rum without bum rushing pass loads of people to get what he wanted. His last assumption was that Renshaw joined one of the numerous fights, either as a bystander or participant, but Hiro didn't want to think about either. All he could do was meander aimlessly his way casually amongst the people, trying to sense where Renshaw was.
    Last edited by lokuri; 03-18-2011 at 01:37 AM.

    Nurarihyon no Mago!
    Inpa: "...I got your mask already, look! Isn't it pretty?”
    Balthazar: ”Urgh.. !! It's pink..”
    Inpa: ”Oh please, it's called being metrosexual!..."
    -- farag0n; Tales of Amn

  6. #31
    Spyro’s Burning Cough Reputation: 15
    Fieryfly's Avatar
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    Sep 2009
    the Netherlands
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    The night was almost at its highest point as the little group of bards picked up the speed of their songs to get the people to dance. Traditionally the dance was introduced by an opening’s song that everybody knew. It was a simple melody with straightforward text that everybody could learn in two minutes. In the clamorous room of the tavern the first notes of this song got the attention of most of the people. Ser carefully plucked the strings of his cider to play the tune for the first time together with Mikai’s strong, but melodious voice.

    “Come me lords, let us dance,
    Let us dance,”

    An old man in murky and old clothes placed his leg on a footstool. His long, grey and dirty hair fell for his eyes as he bowed himself over his cider. A shaky note spread through the room of the small inn and resonated though in the ears of a little Kaori, who sat at the bar, even when the note had already disappeared. With big eyes she stared to the man while her hands were clasped around a nap with hot milk. Suddenly the head of the man snapped upwards and his little dark green eyes peered into the crowed room. Then he started to play.

    That night Kaori learned how to dance, the song guiding every move she made every step she set. It was her tenth birthday, a reason for her father to take her out to the inn to enjoy a night of music and dance. Dancing she mastered, but also more. She looked and learned how the musician played with the crowd, how he got their interest and intensified it. The man might look old and weary and his voice was hoarse when he talked, but when he played he changed and with him changed the people

    Let us dance.
    Come me lords, dance with the sun.

    Mikai finished the first coupled, calling the males to the floor with his voice. Not all of them came – of course – but many young blokes decided it was time to try some exercise after the many drinks they had taken.

    The Bloodelf looked over to Kaori and he smiled before pressing his flute at his lips taking on the lead role of the melody. Ser’s cider seemed to have disappeared to the background, yet Kaori knew that if he stopped playing the song would fall apart. Mikai’s notes called her; they pulled her up and got her to the front of the group to call upon the ladies in the tavern.

    Come me ladies, let us dance,
    Let us dance,

    The waves of the ocean crashed down on the beach as if they were trying to smash it into million pieces and swallow it completely. The waves reached out further and further until they didn’t have any energy left and had to pull back so just missing the feet of a little girl of thirteen who sat in the sand, her toes pressed into the sand, in her hands a wooden flute.

    Kaori frowned and pressed the flute against her mouth, yet no tone escaped the instrument. The beach was silent, except for the everlasting sound of the waves, the sounds of the ocean. The frown intensified. She almost got it! There was a melody in there, hidden into the waves. A melody that whispered to her from the deepest part of the sea, but every time she thought she had figured it out it turned out the be different. There was no pattern, or if there was she couldn’t decipher it. It nagged her.

    She sighed and decided to play other melody, just to kill some time. Strangely the first melody that entered her head was the dancing song. She bit on her lip, but nevertheless started to play it. Her eyes fixed themselves on the horizon as the tunes carried her further away then she could ever see. They carried her back to her home, back to her father. Without her knowing it the melody started to change.

    The tones flew over the sea, carrying her message along with it. A message she didn’t even mend to send. Messages to the sea never go unheard whatever many people might think. The sea listens although it does not often replies to calls. But this time the sea slowly hummed and then slowly send a reply.

    Let us dance.
    Come me ladies, dance with the moon.

    Couples were formed, the dance floor filled with people. The song picked up speed as Essar joined the tune with his drums. People like going all out sometimes, that was what Kaori had soon found out. Normally normal people had normal lives. They did normal things and ate normal food, drank normal drinks and said normal things. It was just the way it used to be and because there was nobody who dared not to be normal, life was just plain normal. Yet when something new entered the domain of a normal and save life things tended to change. Momentarily though, but that didn’t matter. A normal life is something people need. But sometimes variation is necessary.

    Kaori smiled to Mikai as they started the next part of the song. Suddenly the Bloodelf smiled and presented his hand to her.

    Come me childs, let us dance,
    Let us dance,

    The inn was filled with people. Woman, children, men, many of them had come to listen to the group of bards that had arrived in town this afternoon. It was not that often that a group of excellent musicians visited the town and no person would let the chance of hearing them play slip through their fingers. In the corner Kaori had found a place to sit, a hot cup of milk standing in front of her on the counter just like that day long ago. Oh, how long it felt although it had only been four years since the orc’s attacked her village, four years since her father had died and four years since that man had brought her here. Yet those four years seemed to take longer than the eleven did before. Eleven years that went by so fast. She couldn’t even grasp most memories anymore; they had faded away by the years taking the memory from her father along with them.

    This town wasn’t that bad. Not on first sight. It looked just like her town, only less connected to the sea as her town had been. Yet there was one thing:
    They talked. They always talked. Talked about every thing she did, every move she made, every word she spoke. Nothing what she did was good. There always had to be something behind it. She was a stranger after all. She literally didn’t belong here, but where did she belong then if not with her people?

    Everybody was dancing now as Kaori lingered by the bar. She stared to the stage without seeing anything when the dwarf who played the cider turned his head and looked her in the eyes. His fingers continued playing; plucking on the strings to form the melody Kaori now knew so well she could play it backwards with her eyes open. The dwarf’s eyes were calling her, they wanted her to stand up and join the dance. She resisted though; there was nobody to dance with and dancing alone would make her stand out even more.

    The dwarf frowned slightly and abruptly shifted his glance away from her. Maybe had had given up, decided she was not worth his time. He should. After all who was she in this big world? Just someone alone like there were many more.
    Suddenly there was a cough in front of her and Kaori realized she had been staring mindlessly to the stage again. Confused she looked up and stared in the eyes of a Bloodelf. He smiled and presented his hand to her.

    Let us dance.
    Come me childs, dance with the stars.

    May I have this dance"
    Last edited by Fieryfly; 03-25-2011 at 09:47 PM.

    A man said to the universe:
    "Sir I exist."
    "However," replied the universe,
    "this hasn't created in me
    a sense of obligation."

  7. #32
    Sonic’s Milkshake Reputation: 14
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    A Sweden, not filled with snow! Long live spring.
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    Walking up the stairs in the house he been led to his captor opened a door and made a motion for him to get in, inside where two men waited.

    Ah Rob you’re finally back”
    “This this guy was difficult to find Mr Leyden. He has been changing inns the last couple of months”
    “Oh? Hiding from somebody are we Laec?”
    Not my fault I get thrown out, blame Greg not me”
    “Yes yes of course but let’s get to business at once, remove this curse and you’re free to go and if not”
    “Yes yes I know the usual threats, I been through them before and Rob told already gone through most of them”
    Well there went my fun, but you’re not here for that nor am I, get to work wizard”

    The room they were in was dark and shabby, the only lights coming from a narrow window and a couple of candles placed here and there on the furnitures which compromised of two tables, few drawers and in the corner a single bed and behind Leyden a small window which no man could possibly squish through.
    The only exit was the door through which he just entered and, with a feeling of doom about him, just been closed. Leyden was quite different in looks than he expected, he was of a small build and wore a white wig on his, he suspected, bald head even if he just seemed to be in his late thirties. Yet these bandits respected him, somehow he missed the usual screaming brute which was easier to predict.

    Besides Leyden there were two of them guarding the door, Rob and another bandit who by his grin wanted no more than Leyden to give the order, exactly which order didn’t need a genius to figure out.

    Opening his shirt Leyden pointed to at his heart as if further indication of where the curse was were needed.
    Not wasting more time on small talk, he just wanted to get the job finished and get that book. Hand hovering over the curse he thought about his options.
    There were three different ways to get rid of a curse, first chop of the body part it nested on and that only worked if it was a weak one who just resided on the flesh and not the spirit. Second absorb the curse into oneself and the third option. Neutralize it completely with one’s own magic and knowledge. Two out of these three were impossible. He doubted Leyden appreciate getting cut and there was no way he himself take in another curse, the risk of him exploding was high and was sure as sunrise something he wouldn’t appreciate.

    Fetch me some ink” he called out as he took forth his research book and started flipping pages, this form of curse was classic. As soon it got enough energy it kill its host, a straight forward and easy to understand sort of curse. Still being careful was never bad.

    Satisfied that his book had no objections to his first assumption he slammed it together and put it back. “Great, let’s get this over with” he said as he took out his brush, dipped it in the ink which Rob held out for him and began to paint symbols around the curse, this would ensure his magic didn’t scatter around where it wasn’t needed.
    Finished he nodded in satisfaction, only to put a bit of magic into it now and he be done.

    Putting his brush back in place he felt as he withdraw his hand a magnetic force drawing, forcing it to clasp around Greg’s handle, his hand moved as if by its own force and buried Greg up to the handle in Robs stomach.
    There was a shocked silence, only punctuated by Rob’s final gasps of air, punctuated with the inkwell falling down and shattering, splashing ink all over Laecs clothes during its descent and the slow, slow drops of blood falling down.
    “Oh… Hell!”

    The spell was broken and with a gut wrenching feeling Laec heard how Leyden called for help, the other guard calling for help as he drew his sword at the same time, a short but nasty work he, the kind of rusty thing which was more likely to kill you by infection than by its own design.

    Still having control over his arm Greg lunged towards Leyden dragging Laec after him like a child flying a kite during a storm and stopped just one short inch from Leydens throat ”Tell them to back down or we kill you”
    “Oh damn you to hell Greg! This was going so well, I was almost finished and then we been able to get out safely and suddenly I’m holding a hostage”
    “Snap it shut Laec, if you don’t want to be the hero I got to give you a bit of nudging in the right direction”
    Oh so now killing a defenseless man handing us ink is a heroic act?”
    I said a bit of a nudge, so now the lesson killing a man with ink is over. Lets proceed right over to the how to get alive out of a closed room while holding a criminal lord hostage lesson”

    Trying to calm the situation, Leyden was apparently more concerned about his own life than his subordinates “now we might all have gotten a bit excited but let’s not make a big deal out of it. Remove the curse now and we forget this ever happened, can’t be fairer than that, because honestly I think my men are getting restless”
    He was right about that, four more had come up, two with crossbows aimed at Laec while the others just satisfied themselves with the standard leering and showing of weapons, all proper criminal behavior.
    “So before my men get their trigger fingers excited how about releasing me?”
    “And let us get shot instead?”
    “Quite frankly yes, some of my men’s aim leaves a lot to wish for, they might as well hit me as you truth be told” noticing one of the crossbowmen swaying little he swore “I hope they haven’t been drinking”
    Shure not boss, tis old gall is just fine” the man said and hiccupped, swaying his crossbow while gently clapping far too close to the trigger for ones mental and more importantly physical health.
    “Oh god Somebody take that crossbow from him, I haven’t got where I am today just to get turned into a hedgehog by a drunkard”
    “Now, give us all money you got here or we kill you” Greg said as the other men took the crossbow from the drunkard.
    “Oh quit it, if you kill me my men will do the same to you, really we’re in a deadlock here if you haven’t noticed. Which can stop if you get rid of this curse”
    “I be happy to”
    “NO! No bargaining, that’s not how we work, give us the money and then we be of”
    Oh how heroic of you Greg, are we robbers now?”
    “Of course not! We are claiming the unearned spoils of these thieves work to use it for a better purpose”
    “Now just wait a minute, we worked hard stealing everything we have so I wouldn’t call it unearned”
    “Your choice, the money or your life, I could swing either way”
    “Greg that’s a bandit line”
    “Damn it! I meant… Either repent by giving us the money you stolen or repent with your life for the lives you ruined”
    “Now be sensible”
    “Leyden I spend my days with a talking kitchen knife”
    “I resent that!”
    So don't tell said knife to be sensible, what’s sensible for him is cutting”
    “Point taken” Leyden grumbled, having realized the logic in not trying to outtalk a knife at his throat. [COLOR="DarkOrange"]“Somebody get the money”

    “And the book”
    “Oh yeah, about that. I don’t quite know how to say this, actually I do but the position is not the best. We don’t have the book, sold it weeks ago, hope you settle with just the money”

    I just settle with getting the hell out of here Laec thought, what had he been thinking entering the tigers den? Sure a peek in that book might give him a clue how to get rid of his curses but that would not help him if he was in tiny bits, and the book wasn’t even here anymore. Going here, although threatened he could still have run, had gone against all preservation instincts. Now that was one instinct he never really got his head around. When faced with danger the typical response was a rattling of knees and the heavy feeling of one’s legs being filled with jelly. As survival went that was quite counterproductive, now rabbits, rabbits had the right idea, just run and the problem hopefully disappeared.

    I wish I was a rabbit”
    “Nothing just thinking out loud, now if we just let you go can’t we all just forget this ever happened?”
    “Fine give us the money. Greg I hope you realize this will give us a load of problems later on, oh who the hell am I kidding it give us problems now!”

    There was no talking around Greg sometimes, mostly because he didn’t realize, he being made of metal the lucky sod, the discomfort of being cut and bleeding.

    Returning with a bag clinking nicely the man very reluctantly threw it over to Laec which almost caught Laec of balance with its weight.

    Now he needed a bluff, a way to get out, with all the money to add to the problem now.
    “Drop your weapons or we cut your boss’s throat!
    “That’s the spirit”
    “DO NOT drop your weapons!”
    “Shut up! Didn’t you hear Greg say we kill you?”
    “Yes, and I suspect you do just that when safe to prevent me coming after you!”
    He had a point, that had been exactly what he had had in mind. A dead man couldn’t go round chasing him later on. As the saying went rather him than me.
    Then there was no escapes, the only openings were the guarded door and the small window which he had no chance to slit through. Wait a second…

    Drawing deep into himself, where the core of his magic lay, restricting his two curses from ending his life he unraveled the threads and in his mind the color of the curses grew brighter, black and red pulsing more and more rapidly as they swirled around together. He could them squirming over his arm fighting for dominance, like a million burning ants walking at his arm. Beads of sweat glistening on his face he pushed as large a part he dared of the curses farther and farther down his arm until they reached his hand where it emerged. A blue sphere filled with black and red in a never ending chaos of patterns and waves as he at the same time restricted the curses once more on his arm, feeling them slow down already.
    Leyden had watched cautiously “that’s interesting, what’s that supposed to do? Magic you out of here, turn you invisible, kill all of us? Despite the mocking tone he looked a bit nervous.
    “Nope” Laec “said as he lobbed the sphere into the small window slit behind him. The sphere burst and the curses settled on the wood, intermingling faster and faster with each other.
    “Well that didn’t acco-“ Leyden managed to say before the two curses reached their boiling point and exploded. Throwing himself down he heard Leydens scream as he was pierced stray splinter from the explosion. Not casting a look to check the damage he got up and rushed towards the now Laec fit hole.
    “What are you waiting for, kill him!”
    Jumping out he heard something flying over his head as he fell down, hitting the ground he rolled over as he groaned in pain, that had been the second floor. A few interested on lookers had already began to form around him. Getting up, nothing seemingy broken he he wasted no time and ran just as Leydens group came out from the house. Another day, another chase, another cursing of Greg.

  8. #33
    Marios's Mustache Wax Reputation: 10

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    I'm sorry. I have to say this. I can't believe you did this! It looks AMAZING! I have to ask, how? How did you manage to pull this off? It's AMAZIN!!!

  9. #34
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    Blue doesn't remember what he dreamed of. All he knows is that, it had of been a nightmare. He had sweat on his brow and seemed to be be breathing heavily. He woke up several times during the night due to the nightmare, but couldn't remember what it was about. That morning though, he had more to worry about than his dreams. He had to meet Bisnin and find Tesa. Blue got up, threw is cloths on and packed his small amount of items he had with him into his pack. He folded the bread the owner gave him the night before and packed it next to his water canteen. He didnt see the owner that morning but contemplated he must have been sleeping. Blue made his way to the barn, attaching his pack to the side of Ashe (his horse) and hoped on. He tried to free her multiple times in the past, but she seemed attached to him, never leaving him unless commanded. Blue made sure he had everything, and went on his way.

    Just like his friend said, it took almost 3 days to get there. The ride though was less eventful then one might think. Blue planned for bandit attacks or anything. Maybe he would see a village in trouble and save them. Quite the contrary though. He met no bandits and the only time he stopped at villages was to buy food. Little did he know though, that his luck would soon run out.

    Just as the sun set, on the third day Blue saw the walls of Crye over the hilltop. He had been here before, but when he was little. He wasnt familiar with the outline of the city, other then what was taught in his history books during his military days. He took out his map and tried to find where he was in relation to the city's gates. He noticed he was near the north gate and silently moved through the night. He hoped off his horse though, tieing him up a tree.

    "Dont worry girl. I'll make sure they come for you." He pet her mane, Ashe making a small noise of approval, or what he thought was approval. Blue leaned over the hill and counted the guards. Atleast 5, maybe even more then 10. Near the gate though, stood four men who seemed to be soldiers but were acting differently. They weren't relaxed like the other soldiers were, but seemed to be looking for someone out in the distance. They seemed to be looking straight at Blue, but the darkness seemed to hide him from their sight. He remember the words spoken to him that night at the tavern. Men from Genesis would be at the northern gate to help him. Blue cursed himself. He should of asked for more information. In the past, Blue would have gotten all information, including how to distinguish a Genesis member from the soldiers. He was getting rusty. He couldn't delay anymore though. He had to take a chance.

    Blue made his way to the gate, ready to escape if it was a trap. As he got closer, the 4 men saw him and pulled out their blades. Blue was ready to run but stopped himself. In the past, he would of never ran. If he was outnumbered, he would still fight if he thought he had a chance of winning. Blue decided to move on. He put his hands in the air as he approached them, showing them he didn't want to fight. As he got closer to the torches, he was able to make out the soldier uniforms in more detail. On the shoulders, a picture of an eye was present. Blue didnt remember Cyre soldiers having this design. As he got within a few feet, their faces started to become visible. Blue then smiled.

    "Good to see you to Taver."

    The big man jumped alittle and quickly put his sword away.
    "Oh Gen-Gen it's really you!" Taver was huge compared to the average man, towering around 7 feet 2 inches. He was solidly built with large muscles, but sadly his intelligence level didnt compare. His loyalty was unwavering though. Taver went over to hug Blue but put his hand out and laughed.

    "Last time you hugged me, I was almost crushed to death."

    Taver looked sad. "Gen-Gen strong. Taver weak. Taver no hurt Gen-Gen." Blue did wonder how Taver passed the military exam. He came to terms that they just let him in because they were afraid he would crush them...literally.

    Blue looked among the other three men. One he remembered the face from Legion 5. He wore glasses and was always with Taver. They say this man was the brains and Taver the muscle. Blue never talked to him but nodded in recognition. The man, named Cavern, put his hand to his chest and saluted Blue. The other two he didnt recognize, and guessed they werent part of Legion 5, but supported the cause.

    "Hurry, we must make haste. The guards who were stationed here will be back soon" said one of the men.

    Blue didnt ask but told them to go and fetch his horse also. The man nodded and told his partner to go and fetch it. The four of them walked through the door that was on the solid wooden gate. The streets were quiet, but Blue figured as much. Cyre was strict with it's laws, and the curfew was one of them. Blue could agree with this, for when it was put into action, the crime rate severely decreased. Nightlife was still available but harder to obtain. They started to weave in and out of the alleys, passing many homeless along the way. Their gazes fell upon the group, debating if these four "troublemakers" were worth their time to rob.

    Blue guessed it took around 15 minutes to arrive at the hideout. They cut it close a few times, running into a guard who seemed to be drunk. When they arrived at the Genesis headquarters, Blue was caught off guard by its setting. On the way there he pictured the place to be run-down and dirty, rats running around, maybe one candle lighting up the rather gloomy rooms. It was the opposite though. When he first walked in, the main hall was the first room. A big chandelier hung in the middle with multiple tables numbered throughout. The bar was near the front, clean as can be.

    "I'll take you to Yu right now". He noticed Blue surveying the place in awe.

    "Surprised by how clean it is? Yu is considered the leader around here. He doesnt like a mess, so everything is kept clean." Blue nodded.

    He was in awe. Paintings on the wall, rugs on the floor, not one rat in sight. Taver and his friend excused themselves along the way, claiming they needed rest. They finally arrived at Yu's office. The door was majestic, reminding Blue of the doors in the Krystania castle. The man reached for the door handle and stopped facing Blue.

    "You might be the leader, or rather ex-general of the 5th Legion, but Yu is the leader here. Be respectful" Blue smiled. He could see the loyalty this man had in Yu.

    "Of course".

    As Blue walked into the room, the man closed the door behind him. The room was majestic as the rest of the hideout...portraits on the wall, with a bear carpet in the middle of the floor. Behind the desk sat a man around Blue's age. He had long black hair with a tattoo over his left eye. He was writing something on his desk, continually sighing and crossing things out on the paper. It wasn't until Blue sat in the chair in front of the desk did Yu notice him. Yu jumped up from his seat, but sighed when he saw Blue's face.

    "Oh it's just you"

    Blue thought.

    "So how is my Laura doing" he asked as he walked over to a nearby table, pulling out a glass, filling it up with some sort of wine. He looked over at Blue, sighed, took out another glass filling it and handed it to him.

    "She is doing fine. Busy with all the work that needs to be done." Yu nodded. Blue took a sip of his wine which seemed to relax him. That along with the crackling of the fire and warm atmosphere reminded him of home. He started to forget about all the worries he had, but then Tesa's kind smiling face popped into his head. He shook the thoughts out.

    Yu seemed to have the opposite reaction though. Yu took a sip, sat down at his desk, and folded his hands.

    "Let's get down to business. You have to see my great-grandfather, and being quite honest, I don't want to lead you to him."

    If Blue wasn't up before, he was now.

    "What...what are you talking about!? Laura told me you would take me to him."

    Yu took another sip and put his glass down.

    Yu: "Yes, I did say that, but I am starting to rethink my decision."

    Blue: "Why is that!" Blue got up slamming his fist against the table.

    Yu: "Well I personally don't care. This conflict has nothing to do with me. I don't like you Blue Vaiyon...never did."

    Blue looked surprise.

    Blue: "I dont know why you don't, but I don't care. This has nothing to do with me! Don't bring personal grudges into this!"

    Yu got up and threw his glass against the wall, wine and glass particles flying everywhere.

    Yu: " I dont want to hear that from you! Your the one who let's your personal decisions affect your commands. Your one who would go back to save a small group of men, to lose more than you could have saved! My good friend sacrificed his life for you... to save you from Rau's clutches. I don't want to hear a word of how your sorry! Nothing! He saved a good-for-nothing man in you Blue Vaiyon! Foolish!!"

    It struck Blue hard.

    It couldnt be... he thought. Over one month ago. His escape. The two men who sacrificed themselves to insure his escape.

    Yu: "Yes... Landon"
    Yu said mocking him.

    Blue:"Im....sorry. I don't want anyone to die for me. You must believe me."

    Yu ignored him and sat down at his desk. He then started to write again.

    Blue: "When I make decisions, I try to make the ones that allows everyone to survive. No one gets left behind."

    Yu continued to write.

    Blue: "Please Yu. Tell me where he is. I need to save Tesa. I'll avenge your friend. I'll take Rau down."

    Yu never looked up but replied.

    "Get out of my office."

    Blue felt compelled to argue but could feel Yu was saddened. Another dead end. Nothing new. Blue got up from his chair and made his way towards the door. He turned around to say goodbye but noticed something wrong with Yu. He was staring at the writing on his paper, his eyes as if bugging out of his head. Blue could see the sweat drip down his brow. He looked at Blue and managed to get a few words out.

    "I....I'll take you to him."

  10. #35
    Lives in City of Zeroes Reputation: 18
    farag0n's Avatar
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    Default ♪.. Gold is my love, look above, I'll shove it up your glove.. ♫

    Renshaw was ready to follow Hiro off the ship but Hiro suddenly came into a halt and faced Renshaw. Whether it was through the smell of his robe or.. extravagant being, Hiro knew exactly where to look when he spoke to Renshaw. In short, Hiro told Renshaw to stay quiet and watch his body language. Renshaw pulled his hat over his eyes and nudged Hiro to continue. He was mumbling and grumbling loudly as the two entered Cyre. He hadn't exactly realized how difficult it would be to follow someone else's lead, and do so without being his usual flamboyant self. Even though blind, Hiro was capable of strolling through the streets of Cyre without much trouble.

    Renshaw's focus from following Hiro wavered suddenly. Hiro had just found a tavern, it was easy to spot and hear thanks to all the noise it created. He was about to inform Renshaw about the tavern, but Renshaw was no longer in the vicinity. He found himself standing on a dark alleyway with a group of shady thugs. One of the thugs had raised a knife at him and was demanding him to give all his gold to them. Renshaw raised his head and stared the thugs down with piercing eyes. Then one of the thugs gasped and pointed at Renshaw, it seemed like the thug knew who Renshaw was.

    ”R-Renny.. !! RENNY! Long time no see, me boy!”
    ”Eh.. ?! Who the.. ?!”
    ”Is me! Bootleg Ben! Yer old man's shipmate! Put yer knives down, ya don't wanna piss this guy off.”


    ”GYAHAHA! BOOTLEG BEN!! Come 'ere!! What the hell you doin' on land?”

    Bootleg Ben was Garick's, Renshaw's father, first mate while he still sailed the seas. Ben had aged, and age hadn't made him any prettier. His hair was mostly gray with splotches of black here and there. The hair was as dirty as you could imagine and had grown past Ben's ears. Ben wore his trusty white cap which had turned into dark yellow color, Renshaw could only imagine how old the cap was. Ben's face was full of scars, pimples and dirt, the man hadn't taken a bath in ages. Still he seemed to be in shape, even if his age was taking a toll of him.

    ”After yer pops kicked the bucket, I had ta get meself 'nother income lad. It's been a long time.. an' me old bones can't handle this kinda stuff much longer. Hell, I got no-”
    ”The hell ya talking about Ben? Stand up straight, yer givin' me a headache. Ye go till ye drop and you only start worrying after yer dead.”
    ”Ha.. ! Ye sound like yer father, ya know that Renny? I ain't givin' up anytime soon so don't you worry about that. So what brought ya here in Cyre, lad?”
    ”We're outta rum.”
    ”Damn, that's serious.”
    ”You telling me.”
    ”So why Cyre? There's plenty a places to get some rum other than Cyre. Hell, yer wanted Renny. Cyre is the last place ya want to show yer face.”
    ”Cyre's got the best an' I'm willin' to plunder it all.”
    ”Gah.. !! You'll never get the stuff outta here!”
    ”For feck's sake Ben. I just said ya start worryin' after yer dead.”
    ”Y-yeah.. Heh.. Hah hah! You crazy bastard. Do ya even have a plan?”
    ”Yeah. I go in, I take it all, I go out.”

    At that point Ben's laugh became hysterical. He laughed for half a minute before he started gasping for air. He reached out to Renshaw and grabbed his robe only to quickly pinch his nose and back away. Renshaw pulled down his hat again and grinned. He turned around and said his final words to Ben: ”You'll hear about me again before I leave this city Ben. Count on it”. Ben started mumbling, telling himself that he sure would. As Renshaw turned around he finally realized Hiro was not with him. He cursed and stormed out of the alleyway into the bustling streets of Cyre. Hiro was somewhere here, but where? Since they were supposed to find a tavern which has some fine rum, Renshaw figured Hiro must've gone into one of the taverns.

    Just as Renshaw was about to enter a tavern.. the one thing that could jeopardize the whole ”mission” woke up.

    ”HYAA-.. !”

    It was a reflex, a lightning-quick reflex which enabled Renshaw to rip the scarf into tiny little pieces before it was able to scream again. Still people turned around and looked at Renshaw. Hiro would probably find Renshaw now but so would everyone else too. After a short time of being in the spotlight of people's gazes, Renshaw lost his nerve.

    ”WHAT THE HELL ARE YA LOOKIN' AT?!” Renshaw shouted so loud that the glasses in the nearby tavern shook.

    In the end, the scarf was the least of their problems. For some reason though, the people actually ignored Renshaw. They resumed walking and doing whatever they were before the scarf's outburst. Question marks popped up on top of Renshaw, he was thunderstruck by everyone's behaviour. Finally he was able to make out the reason from a bystander's lips: ”Another drunkard.. ”. The situation had actually gone from the worst possible into the best possible. Renshaw let out a hearty laugh and grinned. Now it was time to find Hiro, otherwise their operation would be all for naught.. maybe. Renshaw refused to actually move anywhere, he was smart enough to realize that the huge commotion he had just created would be plenty enough reason for Hiro to find him.

    Renshaw started leaning towards the wall of the tavern called ”Hangover Haven”.

    (( I figured there must be plenty of taverns in a big city like Cyre so.. Yeah ))
    Last edited by farag0n; 03-31-2011 at 01:19 PM.
    Calm down people, it's just me.

  11. #36
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    A Sweden, not filled with snow! Long live spring.
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    The yells and shouts trailing him eventually fading didn’t make him stop until he had run through another few alleyways. Leaning on a wall he gasped for air like a fish on land while straining his ears in case he could catch any yelling or running feet coming his direction. There were still a faint echo of a yell but that was faraway and quickly disappeared
    “That went well”
    “I... ha…”
    “Yes you have a bag of money, don’t get so shocked over the small things”
    “I hate you…”
    “You keep telling me. Now that we got some money how about buying me a proper scabbard. It’s unworthy to just hang in your belt like some damned cutlery”

    Feeling the weight in his arm and first now properly hearing Gregs mention of money Laec noticed he hadn’t let go of the money they taken and groaned, now they certainly wouldn’t forget him. Killing a man was one thing, it happened, but stealing their money would be the final spike in the coffin. Most likely his if they ever got their hands on him.

    “Now where to get a good scabbard? Never seen any shops selling”
    “Greg maybe if we return this money….”
    “They will thank us and then chop our, your head off. Trust me I know these things. I felt those weapons, treacherous, sneaky bastards they were”
    That was another thing of Greg, he talked or felt, Greg was never clear on the subject, with other weapons, swords and daggers in particular. And a weapon could tell a lot about their owner’s personality from who they had killed. Killed. If Greg just hadn’t killed that man they wouldn’t be chased and he would be safe right now. If not for Greg.
    Watching the bag as if it was not filled with money but poisonous snakes he knew the bastard was right about one thing though, returning or throwing the money away would just be stupid. Still he wasn’t happy.
    “shut up for a moment will you?” He said as he directed even more power into suppressing his curses and placing his hand on Greg some into him as well.
    “Hey what are you? Not this! Know what never mind the scabbard just…. Sto…. Th..Y… B”

    Letting out a sigh of air Laec smiled. That would give him some peace and quiet. Not that he could suppress Greg forever, already he felt him struggling to break free. Still he thought as he left his hiding spot, throwing away the bag after having poured the coins into his pocket, heading to a nice tavern without having to worry about stabbing anybody for once was well worth it. Heck, he might even be able to get out of this little dump and move to a nicer area thanks to this financial aid. How wonderful everything looked when alone, although he couldn’t deny that it was taxing suppressing Greg to this extent.

    Lost in the pleasure of not worrying about Greg Laec walked perfectly peaceful, content, happy, any synonym one might find, a state where if he had a guardian angel it would have directed him elsewhere to spare him the shock of waking up from this for him rare state of bliss.
    The sudden scream startled and almost made him jump high for two reasons, one it was surprising, two whatever caused the victim to scream might go to him next. Shortly after somebody shouted so loud that even the queen in her palace should be able to hear ”WHAT THE HELL ARE YA LOOKIN' AT” Hearing the crowds muttering and seeing a tavern, Hangover Haven, the explanation was simple. A drunk, there were sure enough no short supply of those.

    Hangover Haven, couldn’t be worse than some of the taverns he visited where he practically had to run for his life. Though when thinking about it some of those times had been when he had nothing to pay with, funny coincidence that.

    As he walked to the door he saw a man in clothes that give beggars a good name leaning on the wall of the tavern, not unlikely one himself. Just as drunks there were enough to go round for everyone, though often drunks and beggars were the same thing.
    Entering the tavern some of the cust****s lifted swiveled their heads at him, giving him a glance before returning to their drinking.
    The tavern was darkly lit with tables spread around the room with people drinking with varying expressions. Some in the corners drinking in glum silence while some laughed heartedly at something their mates had said, enough alcohol and even a rampaging dragon would seem like a good laugh. On the other side of the room, always in view of the door the bartender was behind his desk. In theory cleaning a glass with a dirty rag but in practice it had the reverse effect. There were people sitting drinking there as well, a bartenders job weren’t merely to sell drinks, it was to listen to peoples troubles, sympathize with them, and then convince them to have another drink.

    Setting himself on a chair in front of the bartender Laec saw bottles stacked on a shelf, their contents of various colors. Perhaps in the faint hope that someday somebody comes to say I want a double blue rainbow and I want it now! or whatever silly name an exotic drink might have, even bartenders had dreams. “One beer” the barman stopping his swiping gave a nod and a moment later there was a filled glass in front of Laec, leaving a few coins on the desk which were quickly scrapped into the bartenders pockets Laec moved to a table in the corner which weren’t preoccupied and settled himself there. Alone in a bar with a drink at hand, now this was bliss. Or it would be he glumly noted as he felt how heavy the mug was, if he was free from his past.
    Last edited by Befram; 04-16-2011 at 03:03 PM.

  12. #37
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    Darkness was fast approaching. It was only this morning that Alarei had left the company of the duke of Brimmingshire in order to embark on his divine quest. He had found himself surrounded by an immense forest that spanned as far as the eye could see. The forbidden forest, it was the place that he would have to tread through before he could go to Cyre, but first of all, he had to make a small journey, a journey into the crypt of a War Temptress. He had heard rumours during his exile that there was a crypt which belonged to Carmilla, the Blood Queen, a Temptress who ruled over Cyradon during the Tribal Era, a short period after Arluduin’s reign of terror.

    This was who Alarei was to visit, in hope of learning any knowledge which could aid him in his quest. Having found himself completely lost, Alarei lay out his satchel in front of him which held a number of various tools given to him by different people during his exile to aid him in his quest.

    He pulled out a vial from one of the pouches and gently pulled off the cork which sealed its contents. A bright yellow elixir flowed from out of the bottle, and as if it were magic responded to Alarei’s commands. Pixie dust. This concoction, given to him by an Elven Alienage allowed him to find his way through any harsh environment, acting as some sort of magical compass. Putting away his satchel, Alarei followed the dust as it danced in the air, leading him towards Carmilla’s crypt.


    Belmont: “What’s your name stranger?”

    A hoarse voice pierced through the grey. The pure elf slowly opened his eyes; a beam of light penetrated his vision, causing him to blink furiously from direct exposure to the sun. He winced his eyes shut until his eyes could fully adjust. The pure Elf looked around and met the face of the stranger who had saved him. He had found himself in a wooden cage on a horse drawn cart which carried him through the heavy gates of a major city.

    Belmont: “We’re in Rivia, in case you’re wondering stranger. The frontier city, as it is known as, since it is the closest city to Nazgral, and the first line of defence against the dragons.”

    The pure elf scanned his surroundings, finding large obsidian towers watching over him. The city guards perched themselves along the tall walls which confined the pure elf within the city, watching over him with bow and arrow.

    Pure Elf: “Where the hell am I...” was all he could muster.

    Belmont: “How rude knife ears, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still be in that burned down village back a ways, now, what is your name stranger? A name for your safety? That is not too much to ask surely” he smiled deviously.

    The pure elf opened his mouth, ready to announce his name to Belmont, his captor, but found that he could not. He couldn’t recall a single thing beyond this moment.

    Pure Elf: “I can’t remember…”

    Belmont: “…How unfortunate, it doesn’t matter anyhow, you’re a foreign creature, I have never met the likes of you before, and I’ve travelled to the farthest expanses of Cyradon, you will fetch a hefty sum of gold from any Slave Driver willing enough to buy you!”

    The pure elf struggled to break free from the shackles which bound him to the cage, but to no avail.

    Pure Elf: “Release me at once, or so help me god I will kill you!”

    Belmont chuckled. They continued to move through what seemed like a courtyard until they finally reached their destination.
    Belmont: “How do you feel about manual labour? You look like you could carry three times the weight of yourself…no…that won’t work; I have just the thing which would suit your talents…Now sleep.”

    Belmont reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe of some sort. He then jabbed it into the Pure Elf’s chest and watched him wince in pain until he finally found himself succumbing to his dreams.

    Belmont: “ H.. –o the m…s..aft, h.. w- - T.-an!"

    ~The next day ~

    After gaining that which he was searching for in Carmilla’s Crypt, Alarei found himself quickly back on the road to Cyre to find able mercenaries who would aid him for the duration of his mission. Cyre was just a three hour walk from where he was, meaning he would be inside Cyre by the evening.

    Coming across a clearing, Alarei overheard the faint noises of a small skirmish from beyond the trees. Without so much as a hesitation, Alarei drew his sword and dashed into the tree line to aid the battle in whatever way he could. Drawing close, he noticed a particularly large man – a half-giant – engaging in battle with a large group of Sanguins. Surveying the battlefield, he also noticed a band of mercenaries engaging in battle with the same group of Sanguins, however, it looked as if the monsters had the upper hand in this battle.

    Lending his sword arm, Alarei quickly joined the fray, slicing through the lizard-like demons with his legendary blade, Anveleine. However, no blade matched the ferocity of a Sanguin, because with each demon his blade fell, two more would replace it. Unleashing another barrage of attacks he joined the half-giant’s side to even the odds.

    Alarei: “I hope you found what you’re looking for, because this fight isn’t going to be easy!”

    Slicing through another plethora of Sanguin, Alarei took a defensive stance. Stepping back from the horde, Alarei drew his blade close to his chest and began chanting archaic words under his breath. Drawing his blade forward, he pointed the tip towards a group of Sanguin. An inhuman display of animation overtook Alarei’s body as his tattoos began to glow a bright blue. He changed his stance once more and headed towards the monsters and began cutting through them at lightning speed. Blood coated him and his blade as he swiftly killed one demon after another.

    The Sanguin ranks were quickly thinning as Alarei took heat of the mob, giving the mercenaries, as well as the Half-Giant much needed room to quickly finish the battle before more Sanguins joined the battle. Alarei’s sword was now pulsating with a sort of hunger for blood, as if it were alive, ready to feast on the glory of victory. Slicing through three more Sanguin, Alarei finally was struck with a blow from one of the creatures. Stumbling forward, Alarei quickly turned around and thrust his blade deep into the monster’s body, twisting the blade deeper and deeper until the monster was spewing blood.

    It wasn’t much longer after this that the battle ended. The Sanguin, what was left of them retreated into the tree line, leaving the blood-dappled corpses of their brethren to the victors of combat.

    Exerting heavily, Alarei turned towards the Half-Giant who had slain an abundance of Sanguin.

    Alarei: “Are you alright friend?”

    Half-Giant: “Ha! I could be asking you the same thing! We’re lucky you joined when you did.” He smiled sincerely and pointed his weapon towards the band of mercs who joined in on the battle.

    Alarei: “You looked like you had it under control” he laughed vaguely. “What were you thinking stirring up a nest of Sanguin?”

    Half-Giant: “I need the blood, there is somebody…back at my home, sick with fever, all she asked for was Sanguin blood”

    Alarei: “An Oathkeeper? I won’t ask how you stumbled across one of those…Fierce warriors they are, I’ve had…run-ins with their kind before, never seen such ferocity in all my years, watch yourself around her friend, what is your name?”

    Half-Giant: “The name is Hector. And you?”

    Alarei: “Alarei. Seeing as you’re alright, I think its about time for me to leave. I have a schedule to keep to; my arrival to Cyre has been delayed for much longer than it should be…Live well my friend.”

    Hector: “Are you sure? You could come home with me, I can provide you with a warm bed for tonight and you can resume your travels tomorrow, if you want.”

    Alarei: "I thank you for the invitation, but if I delay much longer, I fear something will happen. So with that, I bid you good day friend."

    And with that, Alarei maintained his route to Cyre, at a much quicker pace than before. If he was lucky, he would make it to Cyre before nightfall, before the city gates closed.

    Revenge Solves Everything.

  13. #38
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    Cyre was as busy as always. So full of people, people that wanted to go someone, had plans for the evening and night, people that had jobs to do or just those that wandered around aimlessly. The sun was about to go down and long shadows formed on the streets. Slowly the countless taverns and bars in the city got filled, beer was provided, food prepared and the first drunkards were thrown out.

    The cart – which we already know quite well – halted before one of those common taverns and Mikai jumped out. He stretched his body and petted Onumo before turning to Ser for instructions. It was not wise to attempt anything without Ser’s approval if you wanted to stay in the group for longer than ten minutes. The dwarf took it slow though and annoyed by the wait Mikai rolled his eyes and looked over to Kaori, who had just jumped out of the back of the cart. She brushed one of her many black locks out of her face and smiled to him as she caught him looking.

    “Mikai!” Ser’s voice snapped the young Bloodelf out of his thoughts.


    “Get the cart and Onumo inside.”

    “What..?! Why do I have –”

    “Get busy!”

    Essar snickered as Mikai walked off with the cart, mumbling curses to himself, and pushed open the door of the tavern that bore the name: Hangover Havens.

    Inside it was dark. The only way light could enter the barroom was through small windows in the wall, but these were currently so dirty that the light would rather bounce off than come inside the room. In the dim light of the candles Kaori could vaguely make out the other guests. She sniffed by the smell that was a mixture of food, alcohol, sweat and other things she didn’t want to know about, but she didn’t complain. This was their place for tonight.

    The barman was quite old and fat with an unshaven face and small watery eyes that looked wearily down on Ser as the dwarf started speaking. His hands were constantly cleaning glasses, but the towel with which he was doing that was so dirty that the glasses only became less and less clean the more he wiped over them. When Ser finished he only nodded and nudged to a door on the right indication they could stay there and prepare for their performance. Ser approved this with another nod and stepped towards the room followed by the rest of the group minus Mikai, who was still away with Onumo.

    “Sheesh, what is wrong with that man anyway.” Essar said as he plumped down on one of the chairs and started taking his drums out of the bag that he had placed in front of him. Carefully not to damage the instrument he placed in on his lap and started tighten the hide over the wood. “Being all grumpy and stuff.”

    “Shall I go and see if Mikai is finished already?” Kaori asked Ser, ignoring the comments that Essar made.

    “Essar, go look for Mikai and tell him to hurry up.” Ser boomed to the Esper without looking up from his cider which was tuning.

    “What? I’m busy, old man, as you can see and besides Kaori offered to go, why not letting her go?” Essar complained and also Kaori raised her brow.

    “Got any complains on your side boy?” Ser’s eyes shot up. “I asked you if you could do it not if Kaori could or wanted to. Now get going.”

    Huffing something about ‘unfair’ and ‘men’s rights’ Essar placed his drums on the ground and walked out of the door. Ser quietly returned to his cider asking Yurem to produce as A for him. Kaori decided not to complain about anything. It seemed that Ser was in a quite foul mood today so it was better to avoid any useless discussions.

    “Come,” she heard a voice behind her and she looked back. Guiada stood behind her and held up a comb. “I’ll do you hair.”

    Half an hour later the group was ready to perform. Kaori gave herself a lost look into the mirror and carefully placed another lock of her hair behind her ears. Since it was so dark inside, she didn’t really have to worry that anyone would see her eyes and besides that Cyre was quite a tolerant city in the point of view.

    “Hè, you look great.” Shaken from her thoughts Kaori looked back to the mirror where now not only her face but also that of Mikai was reflected in the glass. The Bloodelf wore a simple dark tunic that coloured nice with his red skin and dark hair. A smile played around his lips.

    “Haha, thanks –”


    A sudden scream ripped through the tavern.

    Now screams were not that weird in a tavern as this one, but this scream... well it didn’t sound really human or something. Though as abrupt as the scream started it was cut off by something and a man yelled through the barroom. Although she couldn’t exactly hear the words the voice stirred something inside her, but she didn’t know what it was...

    “Mikai! Kaori! Get your asses up here!” Ser slammed the door open and gave them a look. Mikai immediately stepped away from Kaori and grabbed his flute from the table before walking off. At the door Ser gave him a penetrating stare which Kaori did not understand, but decided to ignore.

    “What was that?” Kaori questioned the dwarf referring to the scream.

    “Just some weirdo with a screaming scarf. Seems he got himself a curse and a big one. His will power was luckily enough to shut the curse down for some time, but we might have to deal with it again. Just be aware if you hear that scream again, it is nothing serious.” Ser responded and his words made Kaori think.


    Screams, there were screams everywhere. Screams and flames, the two things that surrounded her.

    She was so alone.

    Alone in the mass of screams, alone in the never dying flames, so alone. With every minute that passed the glimmer of hope that had been burning inside her faded away more, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. An emptiness and loneliness that hurt more than the smoke in her throat.


    Her head perked up and she stared to a figure of a man which had appeared in the door opening.

    End Flashback

    It had definitely been the same scream. What else or who else would scream that way? But if that scream was here, then that man was here too. There was no other way. The two of them never travelled without each other. Kaori wasn’t even sure if they could get separated.

    In a sudden hurry she rushed past Ser and entered the barroom. Agitated she looked around, but in the dim light of the candles she couldn’t see the red she longed to see. If he was here, then he would have stand out. She would have seen him immediately, so did that mean he wasn’t around anymore? Had he left after attracting so much attention or – which was her other option – had it just her imagination? Maybe she was thinking things.

    After all he was a pirate.

    She felt Ser’s eyes on her and decided to move on. She had to play or otherwise there was no money tonight, no food for her the evening. Stepping inside the space that was created for the bards she took her position next to Mikai, who smiled encouraging to her. She returned the smile before placing her flute on her mouth and the performance started.
    Last edited by Fieryfly; 04-27-2011 at 08:44 AM.

    A man said to the universe:
    "Sir I exist."
    "However," replied the universe,
    "this hasn't created in me
    a sense of obligation."

  14. #39
    Fat Bowser Reputation: 17
    Takesh's Avatar
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    Default Revelations

    (( OOC: Tell me if there are any huge paragraphs! I'll be sure to break them into smaller chunks. This turned out a lot longer than I initially expected. ))

    Hector was a good man, he treated me well and became.. a friend. He didn't care who I was, he only wanted to help a stranger. If only I hadn't been so foolish..

    Hector started running as fast as he could, shooting arrows at the Sanguins as many times as he could. None of the arrows made contact though, the Sanguins were quick enough to dodge them. There were at least ten Sanguins in the pack and all of them were hungry for some fresh Half-Giant meat.

    The situation was bad, very bad. Maiyu's condition was only getting worse just as Hector was trying to fight for his life. His hut was already visible in the distance and he still didn't know how to dispatch the Sanguins. Eventually he realized running wouldn't help, Maiyu would be in danger if he ran any closer. He had to face these monsters, there was no other way. Hector stomped the ground and turned around to face the Sanguins, gritting his teeth and driving his gaze through the beasts.

    Hector: ”If this is how it's going to end.. then you bastards better start praying!!”

    Hector shouted a warcry and jumped at the Sanguins with his axe held high. Just as his axe was about to make contact with a Sanguin's head, it evaded the blow like it was nothing. However the Sanguin was not able to see an incoming arrow which pierced it's throat; a river of black blood started gushing out of the beast's throat as it fell on the ground.
    A small group of men and women who looked like mercenaries surrounded the Sanguins and Hector. Their leader was a rather handsome man with a vivid dark blue hair which reached over his ears. The man had a clear stubble and vibrant green eyes. The leader shouted an attack command and rushed right at the Sanguins.

    ???: ”En garde, foul beasts! Slay them all!!”

    Just as the mercenary group started attacking, another warrior joined the battle. The warrior had a slim build but still seemed capable, surprisingly capable one might add. The man had a long black hair which was tied into a ponytail. He warned Hector of how this was going to be a difficult fight, something which Hector would surely understand soon. The most eye-catching features about him were those runic-like tattoos which covered the man's right side and the sword he held: the legendary Anveleine. Hector could only imagine how he had gotten his hands on a sword like that. The man zoomed right into the bustling of the Sanguins, and Hector sure as hell wouldn't stay behind and just watch.

    The Sanguins were overwhelmed in an instant, the mercenary groups tactic was to deal with the opponent fast and efficiently from all around while the lone warrior dispatched the group from the inside. Hector smashed the group from the side, the battle was fought in perfect harmony. The Sanguins were fierce monsters but even they weren't impervious, eventually they started losing the battle.

    Battling Sanguins seemed easy for the mercenary group, as if they had done it before. Another swing of Hector's axe and a Sanguin fell, only for another to jump right at him. Hector roared fiercely and cut the Sanguin in half in mid-air causing a shower of black blood to rain upon him. Just as Hector made another swing, cutting a Sanguin's head off, another leaped right at him from behind.

    The leader of the mercenary group skewered the leaping Sanguin from above with his spear before it reached Hector. The lone warrior dispatched the last off the Sanguins, only his blade was visible from the blur of movement. The blue-haired leader pulled his spear out and signaled his men to scavenge the goods. The leader had his eyes on the lone warrior, it's as if he recognized him from somewhere.

    The lone warrior approached Hector and inquired if he was injured. Hector answered with a jolly attitude which he was best known. The man inquired why Hector was out here risking his neck battling Sanguins. Hector explained Maiyu's situation without revealing her name in which the man replied with shocking news: Oathkeepers drink Sanguin blood, in other words Maiyu is an Oathkeeper.

    So if Maiyu was an Oathkeeper, then she had to know where Hector's little brother was. Hector would definitely ask about him once he returned. Hector offered a place to stay for the lone warrior who introduced himself as Alarei. Alarei refused however, such is the life of a wanderer. Alarei soon left in which Hector waved his good-bye, now the leader of the mercenary group approached Hector.

    ???: ”Nice work back there. Call me Leo.”
    Hector: ”Excellent timing.. Leo. The name's Hector. And thank you, I doubt I would've survived without your and Alarei's aid.”
    Leo glanced in the direction Alarei had just ran, something was racing within his mind.
    Leo: ”.. Alarei, huh? Well, don't mention it. Those Sanguins didn't stand a chance against us. You guys finished back there? Ah, good. Well then.. Arrivederci, Hector! Perhaps we'll meet again!”
    Hector: ”Perhaps we will! Farewell Leo.”

    As Leo and his men left, Hector walked over to the pile of Sanguin corpses left by the massacre. He was amazed of the damage the mercenary group, Alarei and himself had made. Most of the bodies were all bled out, he was lucky he found some which still had that black liquid coursing through their veins.
    Hector took out a bottle and cut the throat of one of the Sanguins so that the bottle filled with the blood. At first he had doubted several times how the Sanguin blood could help Maiyu but now that he knew she was an Oathkeeper, it was all clear. After he filled the bottle to the brim, he closed the bottle and placed it on his side. Now he just had to run back to Maiyu.

    Maiyu was breathing heavily, the fever was taking it's toll from her. Hector arrived and almost crashed through the door. He knelt down next to Maiyu and gave her the bottle containing the blood. Maiyu grabbed the bottle and drank the bottle half empty in an instant. Hector only watched in amazement as Maiyu seemed to gain her strength back the more she drank. She sealed the bottle and placed it next to the bed.

    Maiyu: ”Thanks.”
    Hector: ”Ha! Saved you again! You owe me big time, you know.”
    Maiyu: ”I'll pay as soon as I can.”
    Hector: ”Don't worry about money yet. Just get better first, you hear me?”
    Maiyu: ”Sure.”
    Hector: ”I got one hell of a story for you by the way! Now listen up, I was facing a dozen Sanguins and this fellow named Alarei..”

    – After 2 days –

    Maiyu was healed now, her wounds had healed rapidly thanks to a few of her concoctions and plentiful of rest. Hector had collected the herbs, the man was knowledgeable in the arts of alchemy. They had gotten to know each other better, which was something new for Maiyu. It took time for her to open up from her shell but eventually Hector was able to tear the shell down. She might've even gained a new friend through all this.

    Hector was a good and respectable man who took care of others, who couldn't open up to such a man? Hector had revealed that he had a wife and a son. He was reluctant to tell Maiyu where they were now and Maiyu respected his silence without prying more information. Hector also revealed something quite shocking, especially for Maiyu, that day.

    Hector: ”Did I ever tell you about my little brother? He's Dragan Loth. He's the leader of this group of people who slay monsters. I'm proud of him, I would've never thought he'd become so successful. I heard that they drink Sanguin blood so.. Are you an Oathkeeper, Maiyu?”
    Maiyu: ”I..”
    Hector: ”Huh? Something the matter?”
    Maiyu: ”Yes, I belonged to the Oathkeepers.”
    Hector: ”What? Really? Then you must tell me! How is my brother? I haven't heard from him in a while and since I found you, a member of the Oathkeepers, knocking on death's doors.. I need to know!”
    Maiyu: ”T-They are all dead.. My hands are stained with their blood.”

    What.. what have I done.. ? Maiyu only now realized what a horrible thing she had done. All the Oathkeepers couldn't have been bad, most likely some of them had suffered as much as Maiyu had. She had murdered them all in cold blood, not caring as long as she could just kill Dragan and leave the guild behind her. Her whole reality came crashing down in that moment, she felt disgusted about herself.
    The wooden spoon in Hector's hand snapped in two when he heard what Maiyu had done. The expression from his face quickly turned cold, uncaring even. His eyes however were filled with sadness. He kept looking out of the window, there was a hurricane of emotions inside him right now.

    Hector: ”And my brother.. ?”
    Maiyu: ”You.. can find his body from a clearing in the forest.”
    Hector: ”.. I assume he was the reason of your wounds?”
    Maiyu: ”Yes..”
    Hector: ”So.. I saved the one who took Dragan's life, how ironic. I do not want to hear your reasons. You probably had a reason for it, yet I can not ignore the fact that you killed my little brother. Meet me outside.”
    Maiyu: ”..”

    Hector rose and grabbed his axe and bow before heading out. This duel was not an act of revenge, it was only an act of honor. It was a fight brought by a crushed soul who had just lost something dear to them. Hector stood tall on the grassy field before him, wind blowing into his face. He was holding his axe on his shoulder, ready for battle. He gazed into the distance and saw a few dark clouds sailing in the sky. A storm was coming.

    Maiyu rose from the bed and grabbed her own weapon arsenal. This was a battle she did not want to go through with, even if she won. In fact, she considered to let it all go. To let Hector be the one to punish her for her actions. She felt like she deserved it from all the grief she had caused.
    Maiyu walked outside and saw Hector standing, watching the sky. He turned around and faced Maiyu. He did not look hateful towards Maiyu, nor did he look compassionate either.

    Hector: ”If only we had met in different circumstances. Maiyu, know that I don't hate you as a person.”
    Maiyu: ”.. !! T-thank you.. Hector.”

    A silent wind blew into both our faces. It kept whispering a sorrowful tale into our ears, a tale of a battle where only one could be left standing. It was the first time I was reluctant to fight for my life..
    Last edited by Takesh; 04-27-2011 at 04:08 PM.

  15. #40
    Still learning the ropes Reputation: 10
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    ((Thought i would keep this one a bit shorter, as Vonur is already in Cyre, and is just living his life, but dont want him to be sitting doing nothing, wiating for the main story))

    Vonur had been living in Cyre for a week now, still with Alistair, but now paying for his room. Vonur found himself a job. It wasn’t a glamorous job, or something Vonur was really interested in doing, but it paid for food, his room, and the odd visit to a bar. He found his work in his third day in Cyre…

    ---4 days ago---

    Vonur went to the port to see the ocean, something he had never encountered before. His first glance at the magnificent blue water was just after he had woken up, he walked to the port, following the smell of fish and salt. When he saw it his jaw dropped. It was the craziest thing he had ever seen. Simmering and calm, blue and green, beautiful. He stood down at the port for the whole day, just watching the ocean, the ships going in and out, it was amazing. He longed to set sail on one of these amazing vessels, sail across the vast oceans, exploring different places, and things that no dwarf from home had ever seen…

    Home…I really miss home, I miss my shop, my friends…if only I could return to it…but it’s impossible…

    Vonur travelled the length of the port, looking at all the drunks, the sailors, everyone was happy here.

    Who need home, I will make a new home, here…

    Vonur looked around at the ships. The decision was made, he was going to become a sailor, an adventurer. He went too all the ships that were docked, asking to see every captain who was there, but none, not a single one was willing to hire him. Was it that they really didn’t need him, was it that he was a dwarf? He had a feeling that it was, that dwarves weren’t allowed to become sailors, he hadn’t seen a single one here, in comparison to the rest of the city where he had seen quite a few. But he wouldn’t give up. He would become an adventurer.

    Turning to leave the dock, after getting rejected from the last ship, he seen a sign on a wall, it read, “Help Wanted”. Was it fate, or was it luck, Vonur jogged over to the building where the sign was nailed, it was a pleasant place, smelling of the ocean. Vonur went inside to find a dark, damp and dirty shop. It wasn’t a sailing job, it was a smithies. Vonur moved to the desk, but there was nobody there. He looked behind it t see a furnace, metal, an anvil and hammer. He could not resist it, he moved behind the front desk over to the metal. They were rings, big metal rings.

    What could these be for? It is definitely not armour, or weaponry.


    Vonur turned as quickly as he could to the sound. Someone had entered the shop.

    ???: What are you doing?
    Vonur: Ummm…sorry…I was just looking…I seen the sign for help…
    ???: Oh, why didn’t you say so.

    Vonur walked out to the front of the desk to shake the mans hand.

    Vonur: I’m Vonur, sorry about that.
    ???: Oh don’t worry about it, I like to see your eager. My name is Hammer.

    Hammer was massive. His muscles were the biggest Vonur had seen since leaving the Iron Citadel. He wore no top, but a dirty, wet apron that barely covered his chest, a pair of black trousers, and big leather boots. His skin was tanned, making him look like he worked outside, instead of inside in a shop. He had lots of cuts and bruises, and blisters on his hands, he obviously worked a lot. Vonur smiled, ‘Hammer fits this man well’

    Vonur: Nice to meat you. So I was wondering about the job…what exactly do you make?
    Hammer: HA. Straight to business. I make crates, barrels, stuff like that, for the sailors, they never get enough of them, that’s why I’m looking for help, I can’t make enough by my self.
    Vonur: Oh, I see, well I have never made anything like that before, I was a weapons and armour blacksmith back home.
    Hammer: Well then you shouldn’t find this hard at all. Like shooting fish in a barrel. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

    Vonur had no idea why Hammer was laughing, but he assumed that he had got the job.

    Vonur: So when do you want me to start?
    Hammer: When? As soon as you can…tomorrow?
    Vonur: That’s great, i can start tomorrow.
    Hammer: Good, be here at dawn.
    Vonur: Okay, thanks. See you then.
    Hammer: That’s swell…oh, can you take the sign outside off the wall, don’t really need it anymore Ha.

    Vonur left the shop with a smile. ‘This is great, now I can stay down here all the time, see the sailors, and captains, maybe even get on a crew. Life is good on the surface.’ Vonur took one last look at the ocean before turning to leave, go to the bar, have a drink to celebrate. He was half way there when he remember he was supposed to take the help sign down, so he turned and rushed back, laughing.
    RPing, i'm not really sure neil...

    *week later*

    I am Karosath, the almighty destroyer of the royal family MWAHAHAHAHAHA

    *next day*

    NEIL: so gecko hows the RPing
    ME:who is this gecko??? Adress me only as Karosath, the almighty, u peasent

  16. #41
    Lives in City of Zeroes Reputation: 18
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    Default ♪ .. I got nothin' .. ♫

    After waiting for at least half an hour, Renshaw's patience withered down to a small little pulp. Only moments ago a nervous looking lad had looked at Renshaw with an investigative look, thankfully the guy didn't seem to identify Renshaw. That investigative look already made Renshaw's blood pressure rise. Renshaw punched the wall in frustration and grit his teeth. Where the hell was Hiro? Those were the exact words that kept lingering inside Renshaw's thick skull.

    It didn't help that the sun was about to lay down it's last rays before the night sky swallowed it. Hearing how the boose was starting to affect the local drunkards inside the tavern, a certain desire crept it's way into Renshaw's heart. He had to get a drink, fast. Before he was able to enter the tavern a local drunkard was just thrown out. The drunkard was as filthy as a street rat, he even smelled like one.. just like Renshaw did ”thanks” to his disguise.

    Renshaw entered the tavern soon after and was welcomed by music and a flying pint of ale. The tavern was as regular as any other, with the slight exception of an actual band of musicians who played there. Candles lit the place mostly and because the sun was already down, the tavern had become much darker. Drunkards grouped together around big dirty wooden tables where some of them sang, some of them drank and the rest kept beating each other.

    The music was still pleasant, the band certainly knew what they were doing. Renshaw walked over to the counter and sat on one of the bar stools. The bartender was a balding old fart whose looks were as good as a skunk's arse, in other words he was a handsome lad if you had drank way over your limit. Renshaw slammed his forearm on the counter and looked at the bartender with passionate, flaming eyes.

    ”'EY! Hit me sum rum, eh?!”
    ”Sorry fella, don't got any.”
    ”%¤(#= !!”
    ”.. That's one heavy accent fella. You a sailor or somethin'?”
    ”Aye, rum's me lifeblood. 'S what makes my head clear.”
    ”I feel for ya. Now what's it gonna be? Ale? Vodka? Milk?”
    ”Vodka, 's closest to me beloved rum.”
    ”Comin' right up. Enjoy your evenin' at Hangover Haven.”

    The bartender placed a not-so-clear glass on the counter and poured some vodka in it. Before grabbing the glass, from the corner of his eye Renshaw was able to recognize the nervous guy from earlier sitting in the corner. Seemed he was alone, and enjoying it from the looks of it. The band stopped for a moment, perhaps it was a short break, and then resumed with a new song. Renshaw glanced towards the band and was able to make out a few of the band members. Only one of them seemed to stand out, at least to Renshaw, and it was the girl playing a flute. She seemed distantly familiar. Dark hair, vibrant green eyes and that blue tiara.. That's when it hit Renshaw. He bursted out the vodka he had been drinking all over the counter. The bartender didn't seem to mind, perhaps it was usual?

    ”Oh blimey.. !! No, can't be her. Ain't she supposed ta be.. forty or somethin' now?”
    The bartender noticed how Renshaw kept looking at the girl playing the flute.
    ”You need to get your eyes checked pal. If she's forty, then I'm an 18-year-old schoolgirl.”
    ”Gahh!! The hell ya givin' me that kinda images fo' ?! Dammit, where's my vodka?!”

    Renshaw drank the rest of the vodka in the glass and slammed it down while wiping his mouth to his dirty sleeve. He stood up and stomped over near the band. There were a lot of people around the small stage, which meant a lot of people to punch at for Renshaw. Renshaw's subtle movement was nearly as subtle as a dragon's in an antique store. Another swing and another guy fell down for the count.
    A lot of cursing emanated from the crowd, though that really wasn't surprising seeing as Renshaw kept punching everyone in his way. He received a few punches too but none of them were able to stagger him. Once he finally got close enough, before beating up at least a dozen drunkards, Renshaw yelled out:


    Fearing she may not have heard or seen him, which would basically mean she's deaf and blind, Renshaw used the back of another drunkard to leap over to the stage. There he was standing majestically in a rotten mud green cape, grinning at the girl he thought was Kaori. The music came to a halt and every single pair of eyes was on Renshaw. Before Renshaw was able to say anything else, the band member who was playing the cider sneered at him. He was a grumpy old dwarf, it was clear just from looking at the guy. It was obvious the dwarf didn't appreciate Renshaw's sudden outburst. Renshaw leaned down and looked at the dwarf, momentarily forgetting Kaori.

    ”The hell ya lookin' at, midget?”
    The dwarf grabbed Renshaw from his collar and pulled him down on his level.
    ”Get. Off. My. Stage.”

    Renshaw responded by grabbing the dwarf from his collar and raising him off the floor so that their eyes leveled. There they were, two alphas holding each other from their collars, and neither had any intention to let go (though from the others' point of view, it looked like Renshaw had the upper hand since he was practically holding Ser in air).

    ”I'll mope the floors with yer face if ya don' let go.. midget”
    ”Not before I break your face and use it to clean my arse.”

    Renshaw threw the first punch which send the dwarf hurling into the tavern's wall. A loud crash bursted out and one of the pillars holding the tavern intact was crushed. Renshaw laughed victoriously but the dwarf was not finished, not even close. The dwarf jumped into Renshaw's back while he wasn't looking and started hammering Renshaw's skull with his fists.

    Renshaw fell down from the stage and managed to shake the dwarf off while falling. The drunkards cleared the area but most of them were itching to bury their fist into Renshaw's face because of his earlier actions. Renshaw held his head for a moment before sending a kick right into the dwarf's stomach. The dwarf grabbed Renshaw's leg however and threw him over the counter, straight into the shelves which held all the booze in the tavern. The barkeeper was able to duck and run away before Renshaw slammed into him.

    ”The name's Ser, not midget, you drunk bastard.”

    The drunkards cheered on Ser and waved their arms in air. Soon Renshaw emerged from behind the counter holding a bottle of vodka in his hand. He cocked it open and drank it down with one shot. Just as he finished drinking the bottle empty, he smashed the bottle into a nearby drunkard's head. The guy fell down instantly with stars hovering above his head. Renshaw jumped over the counter and grinned at Ser, waving his finger at him only to taunt him.

    ”You want more? Time to reshape that jaw..”

    Ser rushed at Renshaw, he was going for a sweep kick. Just as Ser was going for the sweep, Renshaw sidestepped and gave a smashing kick to Ser's side. Ser was sent flying into a wall again, and again another pillar came crashing down. The barkeeper started evacuating people from the tavern, at this rate the whole tavern was going to be destroyed. Sadly, the drunkards refused to leave. They were going to attack Renshaw. Renshaw himself turned around and saw how the drunkards couldn't hold themselves still anymore.

    ”Gya-haha!! COME AT ME, LANDLOBBERS!”

    That was all the provoking they needed. All of the drunkards jumped at Renshaw who floored one of them from mid-air. Ser on the other hand had just gotten up from under all the bricks but instead of continuing the fight, he walked over back on the stage. He decided to quit before the whole tavern was doomed, not that it was in a good shape anymore in either case. With the sheer amount of them, the drunkards were able to overwhelm Renshaw and together they threw him out of the tavern. Renshaw flew a good few meters before falling on the ground. Renshaw slowly got back up and looked at the drunkards with a furious expression.

    ”Now you gone an' pissed me off.. Start writin' yer wills while ya still can.. !!”

    Renshaw pulled out Polly, his katana, and started charging it for one hell of a strike. Suddenly the blade got engulfed by a white glow, the air around him became heavy to breathe and his mud green cape was fluttering like no tomorrow. The face of the drunkards turned into sheer terror, they knew that glow meant something bad.
    Hell, it could take down the whole tavern if Renshaw charged it much more. However, two things made their way into his mind before he was able to take any action: Kaori was inside the tavern, and city guards were patrolling nearby. The white glow soon vanished into thin air and Renshaw sheathed Polly. It was time to stop, otherwise all hell would break loose.

    The bartender closed the door of the tavern and looked inside, the tavern was in shambles but at least the remaining pillars were able to hold it intact. Hangover Haven would surely need some renovation after this.

    Renshaw was back in the market area, right where he and Hiro had lost each other. It was silent though, only a few bums were found here and there. They were scavenging the goods left behind by the nobility. Renshaw sat down on one of the benches and started looking up at the nightsky. Now that he had gotten himself some ale and one major beatdown, he was able to relax.
    Maybe Hiro could finally find him, or maybe Kaori would stop by.. who knows?
    Last edited by farag0n; 05-04-2011 at 03:27 PM.
    Calm down people, it's just me.

  17. #42
    Manic's Maniacal Machine Reputation: 37
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    Default Looking towards the future....


    Blue Vaiyon was on of the 5 Legion Generals of the Army of Krystania. Now though, he is considered a fugitive on the run, for the kidnapping and murder of the princess of Krystania, Tesiana Maeilista. Blue obviously didnt kidnap or kill his childhood friend so he is on the search to find her and the culprit. He starts off at a tavern where a slightly tipsy Blue is given information by his friends of a man who might know information regarding where Tes is. This man is the great-grandson of the Time Mage known as Bisbin, the great-grandson's name being Yu.

    At the same time Krystania's current leader Rau is trying to find a way to stop a prophecy from happening. He is found out to be the one who "hid" Tes, along with collaboration from the ill queen, and Tesa's mother, Lily. They did this to get Blue out of Krystania due his possible involvement in the prophecy. In order to make sure Blue doesnt come back, Rau sends one of the strongest warriors in the land, Enos Hatmor (Titan), the 1st Legion's general, after Blue with orders to not kill but make sure Blue doesn’t find Tesa. Rau is starting to gather troops and mercenaries together in order to attack Cyre.

    Blue travels to the city of Cyre, where he meets with Yu and has a confrontation with him, where Blue’s morals are questioned. In the end, Yu takes Blue to Bisbin, and that’s where our story continues off….


    Blue and Yu walked through the last darkness of the night, as the sun prepared itself for a busy morning. They twisted and turned down a handful of alleys, passing by many homeless men, women and children. Many of these people lost their homes to the constant raids that plagued the kingdom. The homeless rate increased in the past few months, like it usually does. This time of the year, many bandits would simultaneously attack many of the villages. Some say it was the weather that promoted it. Others state that all the bandits are actually under a common leader, and just act the part as different legions. No one knows the true reason.

    They seemed to have gotten to the place as they arrived to an old 1 story building. Most, if not all of the windows were boarded up. The front door seemed to also be boarded up tight. Blue scratched the back of his neck.

    “You could have told me we were lost” Blue said jokingly.

    Yu didn’t say anything as he walked up to the door. He got close to the door and placed his hand directly in the center of it. He closed his eyes and began to chant in another language. As he spoke, four symbols appeared connecting to one another by a glowing blue line. Yu opened his eyes, a whitish high in them, and finished the chant. As he did, the boards and the door started to disappear as if it were all but an allusion. As if his possession stopped Yu’s head slowly raised. His eyes were back in their original state. He seemed to be sweating and he started to rub his temples.

    “This is as far as I can go. He will see you now”.

    Blue wanted to thank him, but Yu just waived his hand as he turned around and walked away.

    “We will continue our debate another time” As Yu disappeared into the darkness, Blue turned around and faced the now door less doorway. As he peaked inside, he noticed it was completely empty. It was dark, dingy, and it looked like no one had lived in it for years. Blue couldn’t believe one of the greatest mages of the time lived here. Finally, getting up the nerve, Blue walked in.

    Well, Blue thought he walked into the random building. As he took a step past the doorway, he felt as if his body just traveled 10 miles. It wasn’t as if he was exhausted but dizzy, as if everything was spinning. He had closed his eyes to regain homeostasis, and when he opened them he couldn’t believe what he saw. The once dark and dingy room was…well still dark and dingy, but now was filled with books, pots, pans, bottles and among many other different objects. The place was lit by a few candles placed unevenly around the room, as if only illuminating it's important aspects. In the corner stood a man who’s face Blue couldn’t see. He was facing towards a pot, mumbling words as he stirred and threw in different kinds of herbs.

    “I’m glad you have finally come Blue Vaiyon”
    he said as he threw in a tail of some sort and turned around. There stood a man who looked like he was in his mid 30s. He wore a black suit, with a white shirt and a black tie. On his head was a tall hat that resembled a top hat. Blue never saw anyone wear something like this before. Even while attending balls at Krystania, he never saw a man wear something so…plain but look professional at the same time.

    The man smiled and took off his hat. He gave a small bow saying

    “Bisbin, at your service”.

    What!! Blue couldn’t believe it. This was the time mage? This was the man who was considered one of the greatest mages alive? Blue could have sworn he would look like an old man with a white beard and hair, covered in a old dusty robe. He would have those lifeless all-knowing eyes that had seen the world at its darkest of times. Instead, the man had light brown, cheerful eyes. Blue was real good at reading people. He could tell the difference between someone who has killed someone vs. someone who was innocent, someone who was brave, vs. someone who was scared. This man though, no matter how hard he looked, Blue couldn’t tell anything about him.

    “Aistyrordi” (impossible) Blue said aloud. His habit of switching languages when something surprising happened, (or when he was drunk) happened again.

    “Ai ker Ai pai byr jhyl jhoji shar o aezaelaer sai mi”
    (I guess I do not look like what you expected to see) he replied in elvish. Blue was astonished. The accent was perfect.

    Besbin smiled. “But anyway, I think we should get down to business. You have a long journey ahead of you Blue Vaiyon”.

    Blue stared at the man as he walked around the room grabbing two cups from a dirty tray. He poured two cups of tea and handed one to Blue. “You are here with many questions Blue Vaiyon”

    Blue took a sip of the tea. It’s hickory type flavor was bountiful. Blue then looked up staring him in the face.

    “Where is Te…” but before he could ask the question, Besbin put his hand up to stop him.

    “Are you sure this is the question you want to ask? As upon rules set by myself, I shall answer only one question. And even if I answer it, you might not like the answer.”

    “But aren’t you the time wizard?” Blue asked. “Haven’t you seen all of time?” Blue covered his mouth quickly. He didn’t want this to be the question he asked. Bisbin laughed. “I know that isn’t your question. I am, what people call it, a time wizard. I can see all of time in the past or present. This DOES NOT mean that I can see everything though.”

    Blue stared at him trying to understand.

    “Life is not bound by destiny Blue Vaiyon. Even if I may see something in the future, we have the power to change it.”

    He walked over to his dusty chair and sat down folding his hands. “Are you sure you want to ask where Princess Tesiana is?”

    Blue would have been surprised, but after all that has happened, Blue expected Besbin to know what he came to ask.

    “I am a time wizard Blue Vaiyon.” He started to tap his fingers against the table. “I can tell you who you really are, Jason Silva, who you were before your current father found you in the rubble of the destroyed village. Your life isn’t as simple as you may think it was. I bet you didn’t know we actually met before…”

    Blue dropped his cup of tea unto the floor, ceramic breaking everywhere. Nobody moved though. Blue always thought about it. He knew he was adopted into the Vaiyon family. Whenever he asked questions, his parents would just state they found him. Jason Silva… he thought. The name felt so familiar to him. He couldn’t pinpoint where or how though. Ready to ask a question Bisbin put his hand up again.

    Remember, one question only…”
    Tesa or my past he thought. He knew this would possibly be his only chance to get information on both subjects. He would have easily stated Tesa, but to not know where one came from.... To not know one’s true parents. To be left in the dark as everyone is in the light. These questions have always surfaced and Blue could never answer them.

    Blue smiled though. He remembered something important that he had always kept close to him and never forgot. There is darkness that is harbored in all hearts. It is said that in one’s lifetime, they will commit at least one act that will greatly affect their future. Some cases are less extreme than others, and in his case, his darkness would have completely consumed him. It was Tesiana who rescued him though. She was the one that helped him choose the path he is currently on. In exchange he vowed to protect her till his death.

    “Tell me where Tesiana is.”

    Bisbin smiled again but this time in a more creeper manner, as if he knew Blue would answer this way. Bisbin threw his hands into the air excited.

    “This is why you’re an important piece for the future! Many challenges await for you on this path you have chosen. Many will die. Many will be saved. You shall find the one you are looking for on your journey. The dangers will be severe and at times you will stray from your path. Jealousies, death, betrayal, love, friendship, and others, shall be committed. A band of misfit companions will come together and try to save this world from destruction!”

    Bisbin lowered his arms. In a low solemn voice he then said “Try not to die Blue Vaiyon.” He then forced a smile.

    “Well that’s it!”

    Blue didn’t know what to think of it. He knew it would be vague, but a journey? Companions? Saving the world? It was almost as if it were a fairy tale. But this was real. There wasn’t a story where one knew there was a happy ending.

    Companions….eh he though.

    “Where am I to find these companions?”

    Bisbin shrugged his shoulders. “I said one question. Go find them yourself.”

    Blue started to imagine him and a ragtag bunch of drunks on a mission to save the world. He held his head shaking it. Doomed…

    “Great, now that you know your future… or well one of your futures, I have a present for you.” Bisbin said in a more upbeat tone. Bisbin walked over and handed him a small vial of liquid.

    “I know what your power is Blue Vaiyon. I know what happens when you continuously release over its limit. This vial will help you. You can only use it once, so make sure you only use it in an emergency.”

    Blue took the vial and placed it in a small thin box Bisbin gave to him. He then slipped it into his patch located on his left shoulder ((if you remember his picture, he has the straps going around his shoulders.))

    “Thank you” Blue said appreciatively. Bisbin gave a small wave.

    “Good luck finding your companions. You will know in your heart who they are. Look closely. I didnt see where they are, but there is always a chance they could be closer then you think.”

    Blue gave a small smile, turned around and headed out of the allusion door.
    Last edited by *sky; 05-11-2011 at 02:50 AM.

  18. #43
    Norrin Radd's Nerd Rage Reputation: 29
    lokuri's Avatar
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    ****** Currently ******

    “Cerelis, at last, I may meet you as you truly are once again. I should be overflowing with joy, and yet…”

    Hiro grasped his blindfold where it tied in a knot, his fingers swiftly unbinding the white ribbon from around his head. As it slumped lazily upon his nose, Hiro gradually opened his eyes, their stern gaze focused on a looming tree beside Cerelis. The coarse lines tracing the aging trunk, the thin branches swaying freely in the wind, the leaves touching the sky before tumbling wildly to the ground – everything that had been soaked in darkness was now vividly clear. However, the return of his sight was not accidental. It was planned.

    “To be betrayed by my beloved sister is bittersweet.”

    At this remark came a soft chuckle, as if by a child who finally felt the thrill of committing a small prank against someone they felt threatened by. But it didn’t stop. The laughter grew, and with it came the sensation that the threat was reversed. Hiro was the one being threatened. Indeed, he had always been the one that was threatened, but he hadn’t noticed until now. Now, as his sister hung her head in despair, but refused to stay by Hiro’s side. Now, as the air thickened with the malice that was distinctly similar to the mist that forbade the demise of a whole family save the two siblings currently present. Now, as the mastermind behind the tragedy stepped from the shadows of the tree, claiming dominance over the remaining lives.

    “Do you find pleasure in tormenting me, Richelieu?”

    “Heheheheh…sorry to disappoint you, my naïve prince, but my play with you and this alluring princess has just begun.”

    ****** 30 Minutes Earlier ******

    Hiro stepped into the tavern, sidestepping a group of drunkards swaying to music they only heard, but to no avail. Inside was packed full of people, a foul odor, and lots of alcohol being guzzled down by cust****s. It certainly wasn’t the best spot for a pirate to steal his weight in rum, which meant he had to start from scratch in the quest to find Renshaw. But where in Cyre could the disguised pirate captain be?


    A shriek that could rival a siren echoed from somewhere in the distance, in the direction Hiro had previously passed by. Immediately, he dodged the growing crowd, leaping forward in an effort to not lose his only trail to Renshaw. Unfortunately, the yelp was cut short, strangled into silence. To make matters worse, Hiro ended up in an area dispersed of people. Occasionally, a couple or a small collection of friends strolled pass Hiro, but for the most part, he was alone. Not much was said about the scream, or who it came from. Was it common to encounter a cursed scarf? No, the situation may be worse than he could imagine. Renshaw’s identity may have been discovered in his absence, and those people who discovered it may have kept the captain away from the public eye! If that was the case, then the cursed scarf had been silenced by whoever captured the very person Hiro had been expected to guard with his life.

    “No, I mustn’t lose hope as of yet. Reckless as he may be, we arrived in a merry part of Cyre, with folk who delight themselves with drink and accept such customs with hospitality. I need only concern myself with suspicious locations, such as this alleyway.”

    Without further consideration, Hiro boldly peered into the alleyway near him, which happened to be narrow and seemingly endless. Of course, Hiro couldn’t witness the inhabitants of the alleyway without first activating Ingravus, which he did so discreetly.

    At first, the only weight Hiro could sense was his own, which didn’t affect him at all. It was like having a one-sided scale empty of all content saved the base. Then, without warning, pressure was placed on the scale, causing the base to be pulled in the direction of the heavier weight. That’s the feeling Hiro struggled to conceal as a brute with a muscular build approached Hiro, cracking his fingers and breathing hot air on Hiro’s face. It was the first warning of a hazardous situation. The message was clear: run away and get hunted down like an unfortunate bunny, OR surrender whatever seemed valuable.

    Hoping to emphasize this message, a scrawny individual constantly smacking his fist into the palm of his other hand appeared. Although Hiro couldn’t decipher what exactly the ally of the enemy was holding, it was evidently a weapon of some small stature, like a dagger or a knife. Oddly, neither of them spoke, alluding to the fact that their leader was still lingering quite far away—or at least far enough for Hiro to be incapable of sensing him. That also meant that there could have been more than three people. At any rate, Hiro knew it was a wise decision to listen first and act later.

    “Lad, ya must be lost, or yer beggin’ to lose ya loot.” The voice was rather raspy, obviously not that of a young man. Could he be a respected elder of a leader, or was he just a trusted spokesman? The most Hiro heard from the other gang members were grunts and snickers. Perhaps the majority of them preferred to use violence over negotiations, which meant the very person he was speaking to was Hiro’s only means of finding a lead as to where Renshaw might be without too much difficulty. Of course, in order for his rather hasty plan to succeed, he needed more than just a stinky disguise and a poor posture. Perhaps it was a good time to test his acting skills as well.

    “Oh!” Hiro pretended to be startled, even going as far as to step back a bit before regaining his composure as a lowly individual. “Yes, sir, I am lost! You see, I’m blind…” At this point, Hiro pushed back his hood only enough to reveal his blindfold. “…and I got separated from my master. So you see, I may not have much to offer, sir. Could you still tell me where I am, sir?” Realizing the amount of groans increased, Hiro added, “Oh, forgive me, how should I address you, sir?”

    “A charmin’ lad, eh? Shame yer blind, hah hah! The name’s Bootleg Ben, the last ya’ll ever hear if yer thinkin’ of runnin’ –”

    “Oh, you flatter me, Bootleg Ben. I am a slave, you see. I don’t have the freedom or will to run away. And where would I go? Without my master, I’m just a lost, clueless, blind slave with nowhere to return to. My parents are dead, you see, so I’m an orphan with no home. So you see, I need to find my master, Bootleg Ben.”

    “Yer master, eh? Hm…I’ll help ya, lad, but yer master’s gonna pay, if ya know what I mean.”

    “Yes, of course. Thanks a lot, Bootleg Ben!”

    “So, lad, yer master’s name…”

    “…Master Renshaw.”

    “…Hah hah hah hah hah! Ya got guts, lad!”


    “I thought that robe yer wearin’ looked an’ smelt fishy. Ya damn thief! Steal from Renny, will ya? Get ‘em!”

    “I suppose I hastened the conversation much too soon. Forgive me, but you seem to know Renshaw quite well, Bootleg Ben. Perhaps you will excuse the few lies—”

    “Aha! Yer a bloody liar is what ya are, and ya’ll die a bloody liar! Har har! Ready yer knives!”

    There was not an ounce of sympathy remaining amongst the shady thugs after Bootleg Ben spat out his last declaration to Hiro. To make matters worse, yet another strongly built, burly man inched his way upon the invisible scale set by Ingravus. Accompanying the two muscular brutes came yet another figure, his weight on par with Hiro. Judging from the way he positioned himself, his weight bouncing from one foot to another, he was a youthful individual who relied more on speed than raw strength. In other words, Hiro was up against an adequate party of rogues who had the nerve to identify him as a thief! Of course, the only reason Hiro was hesitating about going on the offense was not that he felt outnumbered, but that these people – or perhaps just Bootleg Ben – seemed ironically close to Renshaw. He couldn’t very well return to Renshaw after beating up his companions.

    “Very well. My apologies, but I must admit to deceit once more.”

    Confusion surely mounted at the few words muttered by Hiro, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he concentrated on the wind curling in soft loops around his body, causing his hair to quiver like ink the instant it touched the surface of water. The more seconds that passed, the more Hiro seemed to distort to the naked eye, an image comprised of ripples that held no solidification. Dumbfounded, no movement was made by his opponents save quick whispers that ended abruptly. Once someone dared to move, that was when Hiro decided to act.

    One step and a flurry of wind came erupting towards the target, as well as his surrounding allies. A vortex was created from the rapid succession of the channeled wind, suffocating the victims only as much to make it difficult to breathe while facing forward, let alone keep a watchful eye. The wind was certainly not powerful enough to even give them a shove backwards, but Hiro didn’t count on knocking them back. Instead, Ingravus was his version of a distraction, a method of warping perception.

    “O-oi, yah scahm bahgs, I’ll deck ya‘un if’in y’let dat thar urchin a’leevin’!”

    Immediately after the outcry of rage, Hiro cringed. The very person he thought was the swiftest member of the gang of misfits turned out to be more influential than Bootleg Ben. Nevertheless, the supposed leader wasn’t exactly qualified, his linguistic grammar as bad as his temper. The guy became so upset he started jumping up and down, breaking Hiro’s concentration on Ingravus. At the same time, Hiro was desperately figuring out the last coordinates for his next move: Semis.

    Just as Hiro finished his aerial map, a malicious hand seized upon his cloak, hauling Hiro forward. A few kicks came out of nowhere, with punches making it difficult to escape. Someone began to laugh obnoxiously about the surprisingly easy beat-down, as if it didn’t matter that Hiro was blind. Well, he was the one who challenged them, and a challenge was what they would get. Bidding his time, Hiro waited for a split pause to firmly place his hands on one of the taller, well-built figures and sent himself upwards with smooth mobility. Positioned in a hand stand, Hiro smirked, the impending danger of mocking his foes not even fazing him.

    “From nothingness, I beckon you into existence: Semis!”

    Not wasting any of his limited time, Hiro launched himself upward and, waving goodbye to Renshaw’s friends, tucked himself out of reach – in midair, of course. There was no need for sight to know he was facing stunned expressions and gapping mouths. But he was already feeling fatigue. Flipping in an upright position on the rocky path, Hiro leapt like a pinball from one fractured piece to the other, the map in his head guiding him. Below came shouts, no doubt to make sure his fate was grime if he dropped down too soon. Less time, a seemingly endless alleyway, and deadly fists that sought for blood. Then came a lightness that most would recognize as the sun, followed by darkness and a thud.

    “Whut uhn ehdiat! Da’rascul dun’ slahm unto da’waul! Hahr Hahr Hahr!”

    Realizing that he did indeed ram himself into a wall that was nowhere near the corner, Hiro took a few seconds to shake away his dizzy spell. The only problem was the dizziness was mostly caused from his reckless use of his magic. Sighing loudly and audibly, Hiro prepared himself for the consequences of running away. However, as he was thoughts drifted on the matter of how Renshaw would repay him for not using violence despite feeling his right cheek swell and a cut upon his left forearm, someone who only visited him in his dreams was now standing in front of him.

    “Cerelis!” Hiro wanted nothing more than to squeeze his sister in a tight embrace, but two things prevented him from doing so. The first was his inability to discern if she was truly there, an answer he wouldn’t get so long as he refused to take his eyes off of her, as if she would vanish the moment he did. The second was her appearance. Granted, Hiro was able to discern that she was a genuine slave – unlike his lie earlier – and that Richelieu mistreated her terribly. Even so, he didn’t expect to discover her disheveled locks to radiate with a spiritual purple, offering both a majestic and ghostly appeal.

    “May I ask, without causing you harm, as to why your locks that once denied all fairness now glimmer with such a forbidden light?”

    “Nhn, da’lad dun lohst ‘is mahrbils.”

    “Ya can’t let ‘em go after he stole from Renny!”

    “Ehnuf! We’dun steel froom crayzees!”

    With that, Hiro’s adventures with Renshaw’s buddies came to an end, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was waiting for Cerelis to respond, but she never did. Instead, she held her finger to her lips and, after clasping her hand around Hiro’s, she led him through a crowd of people. It was then that he noticed: he could see. Chipper kids skipping alongside chatty adults who grinned with as much joy as their children and stern-faced workers who shuffled their way to their next destination – and colors! Red shawls, black pants, white shirts splashed with grime and other colors he didn’t want to know where and how they were made. The reality of dreams couldn’t compete with the reality in front of him, and yet…he was afraid. And as that nagging feeling of dread, apprehension, and terror heightened his senses, preparing him for the worst, Hiro found himself face to face with Richelieu, and his nightmares became reality.

    To be continued…
    Last edited by lokuri; 06-11-2011 at 05:48 PM.

    Nurarihyon no Mago!
    Inpa: "...I got your mask already, look! Isn't it pretty?”
    Balthazar: ”Urgh.. !! It's pink..”
    Inpa: ”Oh please, it's called being metrosexual!..."
    -- farag0n; Tales of Amn

  19. #44
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    Name: ???

    Age: ???

    Gender: Male... we think.

    Race: ???

    Class: Standing Man

    Appearance: A robed figure with a hood drawn

    Weapons: ???

    Personality: ???

    Skills/Abilities: ???

    Perks: Creepy Starerererer, ???, ???

    A strange figure enters the pub you are sitting in one evening after a hard days adventuring.... He walks from the entrance towards a corner to find solus from the bustling night time crowd.

    His presence can't help but draw your attention as you steal a quick glance of this mysterious figure. You quickly return to your mug and forget about this mysterious figure, it's best not to stare.

    A chill runs down the back of your neck as you look towards this stranger's corner, you begin to notice, he is staring at you. The stranger is still staring at you. His gaze hooded gaze does not break, you can barely make out his face, but you notice something about his eyes. They seem.... blank, just white portals for which you enter in, and never escape. The man keeps staring at you.

    The man is still staring at you.

    The man is staring.


    You feel at unease and decide to leave the pub that now, before you get up however, the man vanishes. You aren't even sure if he was a man at all. You decide it may be best to rent a room for the night, who knows if this man lurks outside waiting for prey on a new victom.

    You toss the Inn keeper some coins and leave the bar area to find your room, first door on the right it was. You decide it is best to sleep away this evening and try to forget the man's stares...

    His stares...


    The man is always staring.... Watching....





    The man finds you in your dreams, you cannot escape his stares.

    You awaken in the morning, vengeance burning within your loi-

    You will find this creepy man, you will take his starerer eyes from him, and make him pay.

  20. #45
    Rock Man Reputation: 16
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    Nov 2009
    Over the Rainbow
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    Default My Character Sheey :P

    Name: Eerdnock Grime (Pronounced: Ear-d-nock)

    Age: 31

    Gender: Male

    Race: Half-Giant

    Class: Elementalist


    Physical Features:

    Eerdnock is a large, unshapely Half-Giant, coming in at around 8 feet tall and weighing a whopping 400 or so pounds. His skin is thick, rock-like even, with the cracks of dry skin easily visible among the near flawless shade of bronze that makes up his skin color. Despite his size and figure, muscle is easily visible under all his tough skin, proving that his size and weight is not caused by many long nights alone with a banquet feast set before him.

    Eerdnock’s head fits quaintly between his large shoulders, slightly un-proportional to the rest of his body. He has a cleanly shaven face (facial hair can get in the way) and his hair is dark brown (so dark in fact it’s almost mistaken for black) and short. His eyes are a light brown color, easily mistakable for golden in certain light. Due to his young Inuik age (31) his horns are short, barely breaking the skin on his forehead.


    Eerdnock wears a traditional pair of dark brown pants, held together by bad stitching and an assortment of multicolored patches, sewed on by an amateur. Plain brown, leather boots cover his feet, their color stained by the elements.

    A multicolored grey, dark green, and purple robe (without sleeves, think of like a blanket with a hole for the head) drapes over Eerdnock’s body. It’s worn, like the pants, and has numerous patch jobs that add splotches of color among the drab dark of the purple, green, and grey. The robe has a built in hood, barely long enough to hang over Eerdnock’s head, and due to it’s infrequent use, it’s color is brighter and newer looking then the robe itself, standing out like the patches. Underneath the robe is a brown, leather harness, used to hold Eerdnock’s wooden staff.


    Eerdnock has a small journal which he keeps in an inside pocket of his robe. It’s filled with details on all his travels, details he hopes to turn into a book, if all goes well. Along with his journal he has his staff (explained in greater detail below) and a small brooch he keeps pinned to the leather harness that holds his staff. It is golden in color and designed in the shape of a leaf. (This I assume would fall under the Personal Effects category)


    Unimpressive Bended Birch Staff:

    Eerdnock’s staff is simple, and like it’s (crude) name suggests, is unimpressive. It’s made up of multiple different branches, most taken from a birch tree (hence it’s white color). Now the birch isn’t the strongest wood there is, but strength isn’t it’s purpose here. It’s use is simply to help in the casting of spells, more like a vessel for his magic. In case of up close combat he simply uses his fists, after all, a Half-Giants strength is often unmatched.


    Eerdnock is an educated half-giant, rare as it may be, his pursuit of knowledge is of greater importance than his physical strength (though that doesn’t lack whatsoever). This is easily noticed by his manner of speech (always pronounced correctly, and with utmost care), as well as his tactical approach to battle. Due to his extensive knowledge he can seem very conceited (he pretty much is) and never thinks highly of another in less given reason to. Thus his respect for people in positions of power is often none, he simply bows because he has too, not because he thinks that person deserves it, so to speak.

    He never thinks twice about letting others know what he thinks about the situation at hand, he’s very vocal in his opinions and won’t stand for someone bashing his ideals (a good political candidate basically). He stands firm in his beliefs, even after being proven wrong. So by nature he’s stubborn, stubborn as a mule. He’s easily annoyed, especially when taken away from his writing, or reading, and can very easily be your worst enemy, or your greatest friend.


    Phalanx (defensive):

    Perhaps Eerdnock’s most used skill and most useful, taking advantage of his control over both his elements (earth and water) Eerdnock creates a constantly changing barrier covering a set distance. Now reckon it’s not a giant shield or cliche globe barrier surrounding you, it’s basically being alert of all your surroundings. It gives you more control over a certain area of land or water that can be used for protection if needed. So when attacked, the earth or water will rise up to block the attack. It’s not impenetrable, and the more distance Phalanx is covering the easier it is to get by it. It’s at it’s strongest and fastest when directly surrounding Eerdnock. The longer Phalanx is active, the faster Eerdnock is drained of energy (like how it usually is with most special abilities).

    Phalanx (offensive):

    The offensive counterpart to the above skill, can be used along with or seperately from the defensive Phalanx. Like it’s name implies this is the offensive side to the Phalanx, and it works in much the same way as it’s defensive counterpart. Eerdnock takes control of a certain section of land or water (or both) and is fully aware, and in control of it. Thus he can attack multiple enemies around him that enter the decided area, or defend himself from their attacks along with quickly dispatching him. As said above, the farther the reach of the Phalanx, the less powerful and easier to dodge it becomes, and the longer it’s used the weaker Eerdnock becomes.


    Scholar: Eerdnock is one of the few educated Half-Giants, his intelligence is vast and he is a sight to behold when asked Trivia questions. Though more often then not it is used in a more practical sense, such as recalling important history, or remembering handy facts such as mating periods of dangerous animals, or the incubation period of duck eggs.

    Traveler: A spot on memory, and a knack for traveling has given this Half-Giant a vast knowledge of the lands, such as the best paths to take or the shortest routes to cities and what not.

    Keen Eye: Through all his years on the go, Eerdnock has run into many challenging a foe (OOC: inadvertent rhyme, thought I’d keep that in there ) and with every conflict one can’t rely solely on strength or powerful magic alone. Eerdnock, in turn, has earned the ability to find a weakness, whether it be a touchy topic in a conversation, or a mistake in an enemies tactics.


    Early Life (From birth till 10): Beer, lots and lots of beer. Raised in a Beer Hall (or a brewery) Eerdnock was one of the “lucky” Half-Giants to be separate from the barbarian ways of other clans. His father, Grognock, was the proud owner of a Beer Hall, the Tumbled Weed, in the city of Cyre. There the widower Grognock (the mother, Mardnock, died after Eerdnock’s birth) raised his only child. Taught how to brew, and bartend from an early age Eerdnock was often seen running the counter when his father was away, along with slugging down a little ale himself (drinking ages don’t seem to be listed ). Life continued on this way, with the constant stream of cust****s keeping the taxes paid and the stomachs full.

    Awkward Years (10 to 16): Eerdnock, having been raised away from the barbarian clans of his brethren, soon took an interest in education, a little after the time most boys had started their schooling. Thus, when he had time away from the brewing, and the counter running, he would often sit in the rafters of the Beer Hall and read. His father was a nice man and fueled his boys thirst for knowledge (and ale) by spending the bit of extra coin they had on new literature, building Eerdnock’s collection till it matched that of any notable library. His father soon regretted these purchases as his son became more unwilling to do labor, like work in the brewery, or tend to drunken cust****s. Thus began the awkward, silence filled years of Eerdnock’s teens, on through to the age of 16, a little over half of the way to Inuik ages.

    Life as an Apprentice (16 to 24): Then one fateful day “he” walked in. The mage Learta, a human with a knack for magic and (luckily) a taste for beer. He, noticing the piles of books stacked in unused corners, took interest, and asked Eerdnock’s father who they belonged too. Naturally, the honest man said the name of his son, and called down the little, or not so little at the time, half-giant. The two hit it off instantly, sharing the same taste in literature, and a wicked sense of humor, as well as a similar taste in apparel, but we won’t go into that. Thus, Eerdnock began his travels with the not so famous mage (much to his fathers despair). Slowly learning how to control the elements as well as cast them himself. His skill grew with time, and just six years before the beginning of his Inuik life cycle, he left the mage (who is either dead or in hiding, as stated by Eerdnock).

    Pursuit of Knowledge (24 to 29): After his time with the mage, Eerdnock headed home, visiting his now old father Grognock. After a few months of rest, Eerdnock packed up his most important books (numbering in the hundreds) and headed on his way. Traveling to the different areas of Heoden, Eerdnock began to learn, from culture to history, from history to trades, Eerdnock learned it all. His travels took him (nearly) everywhere, and he didn’t seem to mind.

    Eerdnock; Inuik, and Writer (29 to 31): This is about the time when Eerdnock began documenting his travels, as well as his slow journey home. Hitting all the important places he found on his travels he made bad time getting home. In fact, he isn’t even home yet, close, but not yet. He stops to rest along a smooth clearing of grass. The city of Cyre glimmering in the distance.

    (OOC: This is where Eerdnock will begin his story, and yes, this CS has already been pre-approved.)
    "If I'm such an important person, why do you stutter when I ask if you know my name?"


  21. #46
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    Fieryfly's Avatar
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    Talking o.O Renshaw got hit


    Kaori stumbled over her tones. Before her jumped a man on the stage using someone’s back as his springboard. He grinned to her and Kaori almost dropped her flute. This couldn’t be true. Even though he was wearing the dirtiest cape Kaori had ever seen and his haircut had visibly changed since the last time they had met this was unmistakably the pirate captain that had saved her so long ago. Renshaw. The scream she had heard a while ago had actually been him, or rather his scarf? With wide eyes she stumbled backwards. She couldn’t believe it. Suddenly Mikai came in her view. Protective he took a stance before her while Ser mumbled: “Let me handle this.”

    The dwarf stepped forwards to the interruption. “What do you think you are doing?” He sneered, his eyes ablaze. It was okay with him when people talked through their playing, it was okay if they screamed, threw with things that didn’t hit the target or walked away, but if there was one thing that Ser hated it was when people interrupted his songs. He didn’t know what Kaori’s connection with this man was and he didn’t want to know, but this he wasn’t going to tolerate.

    A moment later he hurled through the tavern.

    Kaori grasped, her hand pressed against her mouth in shock. Ser got up again, luckily, and started hammering the guy with his fists, determined to send him out.

    “Let’s go.”

    Bewildered Kaori looked up and noticed that Mikai was trying to get her off the stage. Yurem had already quietly made his leave and Guiada was nowhere to be seen. Probably the two had already seen the danger beforehand and had sought residence in the back of the tavern.

    "What’s wrong with that guy?” Essar growled. “Well I’m going to help him.”

    “No you are not.” Mikai said as Ser threw the man into the shelves behind the counter. “The old man can handle this by himself. We are going to get out. At this rate the place is going to collapse.”

    Ser was hurled against another pillar and the tavern trembled. Without a single breath wasted the dwarf stood up though and calmly walked over to the stage as Renshaw confronted the rest of the bar while standing before the counter. Ser was finished with this. He shot a glance to the remaining members of his band. “Let’s go.” He grunted.

    The tavern almost exploded as all the drunkards jumped at Renshaw and engaged in the battle. It the mass destruction the small group quietly disappeared. When they finally stood outside again Essar spoke: “What the hell! Who was that guy anyway?” He turned around to face Kaori only to find that she wasn’t there.


    Kaori pushed herself through the crowd. Her movements were hasty and uncoordinated as her eyes shot to left and right. The mass pushed her away from the tavern and away from her friends. Suddenly the mass dispersed and moments later Kaori stood alone on the street as the drunkards sought refuge in one of the many other taverns around. After the white glowing sword it had been clear that they were up to something way out of their league. This asked for some drinking to lighten the mood again. After all the night was still long.

    Kaori looked around. A green cape made its way through the street. Quickly she walked after him. Her shoes clacked on the stones as walking turned into running. The cape disappeared towards the marketplace and Kaori was about to follow him when she was reared back.

    “What do you think you’re doing?”The red eyes of a Bloodelf bored themselves in her sea colored ones.

    "Mikai.” She grasped. “Let me go. I have to go after him.” She tried to loosen herself from his grip, but he held on firm.

    “Who is he that you need to go after him without informing your friends?”

    “He… he…” Kaori stammered. It would take too much time to explain everything in detail. Renshaw would be long gone then. “He saved my life once.” She said, hoping this would get Mikai off. She didn’t want to hurt the Bloodelf’s feelings, but this was not his business.

    Unfortunately the Bloodelf didn’t back away. He only frowned. “He saved you? You have never –”

    “Is this man bothering you, miss?” Behind them appeared the towering figured of a guard. He looked with hard eyes to the hand of the Bloodelf that was tightly wrapped around Kaori’s wrist.

    Kaori hesitated. She could say yes. Mikai would have to let her go if he didn’t want to create a fuss. She could then go after Renshaw. But… “No,” she said to the man, “just a bit of a quarrel. Thanks for your concern.” She flashed a smile to the guard. The man looked at her wearily, but then nodded.

    “Have a nice night then, miss.” He tipped his hat and turned around. He disappeared behind a group of people that had exited one of the bars.

    “Thanks.” Mikai breathed. He would have been screwed if the guard had arrested him. Ser would have poached him alive.

    “Now do you let me go?” She questioned him.

    “Kaori look. I can’t just let you go to some man I don’t know. Don’t you know that-”

    “- he could be dangerous? Mikai I know him!” Kaori pulled her wrist out of Mikai’s hand and before the Bloodelf could say another word she began to run. She heard the Bloodelf call after her, but didn’t stop. She would apologize to him later.

    The green cape had been long gone, so she did the only possible thing she could think of and sprinted to the market place. If he wasn’t there then there was no way she would even find him back in this huge city. Panting she entered the area. Her eyes shot around until they found their designated target sitting on one of the benches. She breathed once and then entered the area.

    Renshaw was gazing at the stars as Kaori approached him. When she finally stood before him there was a short pause in which her mouth suddenly felt dry. Then she raised her hand and slapped them man flat in his face.

    “How could you?!” Her voice trembled. Actually she was not sure if she was talking about the bar event or about the past. She had been so angry with him. How could he just leave her in that village and disappear himself to the vast ocean? She had been completely alone after the raid on the village and the only person who she did know and did trust sailed away. She had cried and screamed at him, but he had gone away anyway. The people in the village had looked to her with strange eyes. She didn’t belong there and she never would. It was all his fault. Why didn’t he take her along with him, along with him to the ocean, the ocean she loved so much?

    “How could you do that to me?” She said again. Her body shook and her hand clenched into firsts. Her sea colored eyes found the pirate captains ones. They were determined to find an answer.
    Last edited by Fieryfly; 06-05-2011 at 08:59 PM.

    A man said to the universe:
    "Sir I exist."
    "However," replied the universe,
    "this hasn't created in me
    a sense of obligation."

  22. #47
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    Over the Rainbow
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    Default First Post ^^

    Eerdnock grimaced, his dry lips cracking from the sudden movement. Daylight was slowly slipping away, much to his disappointment. He hated traveling at night, visibility was poor, and he always had the urge to sleep. Plus, the gates of the city remained closed at night and he had no urge to stay outside on the grass, again. Begrudgingly he rose from the, now flattened, stretch of grass he had been laying on. Stretching, he prepped his body for the brisk walk he was going to make in order to enter the city of Cyre. “Ugh, my poor, aching body.” Eerdnock said as multiple bones cracked throughout his back. Despite his fairly young age of 31, he was prone to back stiffness, and other muscle and bone ailments. These “problems” were most likely due to the bad posture he had as a kid, slouching seemed to be the most comfortable position for an overly large Half-Giant child.

    Pushing through the pain, Eerdnock packed up his camp, consisting of a blanket being shoved into a small satchel. Groaning again, he swung his satchel up and onto his back. The weight heavier then he remembered. “The burden I bear for knowledge.” He mumbled to himself, acknowledging the cause of the satchel’s heaviness (a large quantity of books and paperwork). The Half-Giant slowly lumbered away, his brown, leather boots sending up clouds of dust with every step.

    The city of Cyre lingered not too far off in the distance, much to the relief of the Half-Giant, who had spent his last few years traveling back home. It wasn’t hard to miss as seeing the abnormally large wall that surrounded it was the only of it’s kind in the surrounding countryside. Eerdnock smiled, slightly, the place remained much as he had remembered. The only difference being the more weathered look of the stones making up the wall. His pace quickened, the eagerness to be back at the “Tumbled Weed” was getting the best of him. After all, his long journey had cleaned him out of ale a long while ago, and his mouth watered just thinking about the great taste of his father’s ale.

    The gates of the city were, large, the only word that Eerdnock could think of to describe the massive architecture. Sure it didn’t compare to that of the dwarves, but it was still a magnificent sight to behold. Eerdnock could only imagine the amount of time and effort put into such a structure. “What it must have been like to see the creation of such a wonder. . .” Eerdnock thought aloud as he passed through them and into the city itself.

    Despite the magnificence of the cities outer wall, it was the city itself that was the real treat. The vast rows of shops and houses, taverns and churches, spread before Eerdnock like a beautiful model city. The cobblestones alongside, and in-between the buildings were littered with people, most of whom were out to enjoy the night. Eerdnock pushed his way onto a city sidewalk, people sober enough to notice his size clearing the way for the Half-Giant. He wasn’t a common site among these people, despite Cyre’s vast difference in races Half-Giants were still uncommon. Sure there were a few, but the tendency for the race to stay in their own tribes and villages kept their presence little to none. Hence the reason for the slight gasp from a young couple out for an evening stroll. Eerdnock didn’t mind, most were an annoyance to make company with anyways.

    The Half-Giant made his way through the city with speed, pushing past the groups of drunkards in search of cheaper pubs. He rounded a corner, continuing along the sidewalk. Despite his absence from the city since his teens, he remembered his way around fairly well. It helped that everything looked fairly familiar, and what did change was simply the names of the stores or the owners of the houses. Only once did he find himself “lost”, and after only a moment or so did the Half-Giant right his mistake and continue on his way. The location of his father’s tavern came into view not long after, and much to Eerdnock’s surprise, the sign out front read a very different name, “Hangover Haven”. Eerdnock stifled a laugh, the name change was unexpected as seeing his father’s tendency to stick with the old. It was a refreshing change nonetheless and Eerdnock found himself curious to see what else had changed within the tavern. Thus, he quickened his pace and found himself inside the tavern in a matter of seconds.

    He was greeted by music, and a few drunken idiots bumping into him, their all important ale splashing every which way. Eerdnock grimaced ‘Ahh home, how nice.’ he thought to himself as he pushed past the confused buffoons who were still attempting to figure out the reason behind their empty cups. Eerdnock’s size didn’t help matters much here, everyone was so caught up in the moment (dancing and drinking) to notice the large body and thus ran into it more than once. Luckily the crowd remained merry and left Eerdnock to continue on to the counter.

    Tapping the table, Eerdnock expected to see the familiar face of his father to turn and greet him. Instead, an older man turned and asked him the typical question, “What can I do for ya?”. Eerdnock paused, caught off guard. “Uhm. . .” For once the words didn’t come to him, and he sat staring, his mouth quivering as if preparing to speak. “Look, I haven’t got all day, I’ve got cust****s ya know.” The bartender said angrily. Eerdnock swallowed, then began to speak. “Can you help me? I was wondering if you know a Grognock Grime? He used to own this place not too long ago.” The bartender looked around nervously then asked, “Who wants to know?”
    “His son.” Eerdnock replied coldly. The bartender, taken back from the statement, leaned in closer. As if privacy was an issue in a place filled with drunken souls who didn’t care enough to pry. “The man you’re speaking of went out of business awhile back, sold the place to my father-bless his heart, who in turn gave it to me.” Eerdnock froze, his eyes widened, and his mouth hung open.
    “Is my father, is he, dead?”
    “I don’t know friend, I don’t know.”
    “Oh dear. . .”
    “Here, have a drink, on the house. Not everyday does a boy lose his father.”

    The bartender turned to the keg and went about filling a cup with ale before turning back to the awestruck half-giant before him. “Here, drink.” The bartender pushed the cup into Eerdnock’s hand, and in turn Eerdnock gulped down the ale. Faster then he should have. The sting of the alcohol made it’s way through his mouth and down his throat, followed by a quick hiccup. Eerdnock pushed himself away from the table, and nodded his thanks to the bartender. He began to make his way out of the tavern, just in time it seemed as seeing a quick scuffle ensued between a man, who Eerdnock thought to be drunk, and a dwarf minstrel. He hadn’t payed any attention to the reason for the fight, but by the way the man in the fight acted, Eerdnock assumed it to be his doing. He payed it no heed and exited the tavern, making his way to his father’s usual hangout, the marketplace.

    Eerdnock walked swiftly, his eyes constantly moving, searching. He saw the usual bench sitters, the couples taking advantage of the privacy they thought they had, the drunks, attempting to walk home. The guards, looking to resolve any problems that occurred in the area, and the few beggars and homeless, sitting in and around a small alley leading out of the marketplace. He made his way to one of them, the sound of his heavy footsteps waking the poor soul from sleep. He was old, the wrinkles covering his face and body evident of that much. The hair on his head was almost all gone, save for a few patches of long, white hair, near black with dust and grime. His ribs showed through his thin skin, along with nearly every bone in the mans body. Eerdnock felt no pity, the man had done it to himself, he obviously didn’t try to succeed at a young age and now he lived off the kindness of others.

    The beggar looked up at Eerdnock, his wide blue eyes squinting to see the half-giants face. “Spare a bit a’ coin sir?” the man asked, his hands reaching out and forming a small “cup”. Eerdnock slipped out a small, golden coin, dangling it above the mans outstretched hands. “Only if you help me.”
    “I’m just a poor old beggar, I don’t know anythin’ honest.”
    “Poor yes, but not deaf, and not blind, you must here rumors, or see people. You aren’t completely unaware. Now, I need help finding someone, Grognock Grime. A half-giant, like myself.”

    The beggar paused for a moment, his eyes closing, then reopening a second later. “Ya say a half-giant, like yourself? There’s only one I know of, not sure of his name, but he’s the only one I know.”
    “And where is he?”
    “Further down the alley, you can’t miss em’.”
    The beggar reached out again for the coin, Eerdnock dropped it into his hand, and pushed past the beggar. The alley was littered with garbage and smelled of ale. The people in the alley were much like the beggar before, thin, and unhealthy, most of them old, and withered. Eerdnock scanned the place for anyone remotely large. He came across what looked to be a fat man, but on closer inspection turned out to indeed be a half-giant, evident from the two broken horns erupting from his skin. ‘It can’t be.’ Eerdnock thought to himself as he walked towards the half-giant.

    “Father?” Eerdnock asked cautiously, unsure of it’s reaction. The half-giant looked up, then around, his eyes obviously blinded due to their grey color. “I’ve heard that voice before, is it, is it, Eerdnock? My son!?” Eerdnock stared at the half-giant before him. This wasn’t his father, this just wasn’t. “My Son! My Son! Eerdnock!” The beggar looked around wildly, his hands groping out for the person he believed to be his son. In doing so, a cup of ale spilled to the ground, sending a few drips of the alcohol onto the ground. Eerdnock silently turned and walked away, letting the beggar search. Eerdnock turned and left the alley, filled with anger and shame at his drunken father.

    He stopped as he reached a bench, dropping his satchel next to it, he let himself fall onto it, his tough skin absorbing the blow. Thoughts whirled through his mind, the how’s and why’s of his father’s decline echoed throughout his head. He had no answer for them, and he had no want to ask for fear of the response. He loved his father dearly, as any son would, but that was not the man he used to know. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, instead focusing on a young girl who entered the marketplace seconds before. He followed her as she walked over to a man, the man Eerdnock recognized from the tavern. He watched silently, letting the recent events slip from his mind. After all, Eerdnock didn’t dare spoil the memories of the perfect dad he used to know.
    "If I'm such an important person, why do you stutter when I ask if you know my name?"


  23. #48
    Sonic’s Milkshake Reputation: 14
    Befram's Avatar
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    A Sweden, not filled with snow! Long live spring.
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    The music filling the room Laec observed the drunkards dancing, belching and splashing their ale about, a few of them already down for count, having being drunken under the table by their comrades.

    Jolting up hitting his knee on the table he swore while searching for the one who spoke, there was nobody near him and it hadn’t been Greg, had he imagined it?


    Now that he hadn’t imagined! A horrible suspicion dawning he rolled up his left sleeve exposing the curse marks he saw how the blue one, his sisters curse, glowing, moving along his arm. He had spent too much strength on suppressing Greg.
    He needed to get the curse under control quickly, but he felt so tired, slowly he folded over the table, aware that his very life was in danger as darkness crept over his vision.
    Opening his eyes he found himself being in a white room, with a familiar woman dressed in blue smiling faintly in front of him.

    “Oh hell it’s you, where am I?”
    “Laec mind your language, it’s been such a long time since we saw each other, no need to be rude. But you’re inside a piece of my mind that I created so we could talk, doing that wasn’t easy”
    “Oh good, I do care that it wasn’t easy for you after all, so what do you want to talk to me about Verenca, how you plan to kill me?”
    “Laec I just want to talk to you like we used to when we were young. I miss those times. You’re my only brother after all, I been so worried for you”
    She said and sat down on a chair which had appeared out of nowhere “a bit empty here isn’t it?” and as if embarrassed by her comment the room began to change, turning the floor into fine oak planks and cowering the walls with works of arts and torches lighting up the room. A chair materialized behind Laec as well, he choose to stand.

    “So how have your day been Laec?
    “Mean except meeting you?”
    “Yes Laec, except meeting me” she sighed.
    “Well let’s see, I been chased by thieves, stole their money so they probably kill me if they ever find me, but except that and meeting you I had a pretty good day.
    “That’s a big except”
    “You’re telling me”
    “Still, why would you take their money? You’re bit of a scaredycat truth be told”
    “Greg sort of ruined the chance for peaceful cooperation”
    “Greg? Glad to hear you’re not alone”
    “Yeah that must be a big load of your conscience”
    “Laec I wouldn’t been doing this if there were any other options believe me”
    “Is that supposed to make me happy? Either way “Sis” you can’t take my life just yet. You sneaked in and caught me off guard, true, but I’m still suppressing the curse enough to prevent it from draining the life out of me”
    “A bar”
    “A bar in the city of Cyre called Hangover Haven where a band of musicians are playing”
    “You took a peek through my mind before taking me here…But I be long gone before you get here”
    “Not if I sent somebody to Cyre and told him where you are, how much time have passed since you fell asleep you believe?”

    It was true, he had no way of knowing how much time passed since he passed out and ended up here, and if what she said was true that meant he was completely defenseless while in here. Feeling the panic stir inside him he forced himself to calm down, he was scared out of his wits at the thought of being captured but panicking would not help him, not now. “Now sister let’s both calm down, you can’t take my life here, and also you know it’s very troublesome catching me, I might even escape your hunter, why not catch father of guard and drain the life out of him instead, that would be a lot easier. Or have him remarry and get another child”
    “That wouldn’t work you know”
    “Kind of hoped you didn’t” he said as he focused his mind and magic, the only weapons available when inside somebody’s mind and sent out a stream of red hot flames.
    Raising her hands there were a bright flash from Verenca’s hands that collided with his own attack where they halted in mid air, the two forces fighting for dominance until both faded away and Laec fell down, exhausted. The strain also showing on his sisters face.
    “That… won’t work brother” she panted “I can’t kill you here as you said, but I can keep you here long enough for him to get to you”
    Realizing the truth in what she said Laec felt the hope drain from him, he could run from any danger anywhere at any time, but not in here, normal rules did not apply. Casting his eyes upwards in desperation he saw with surprise how a dagger slowly slipped through the roof and fell on the floor with a clank. Both of them stared at the single piece of steel that had arrived without warning, could it be?

    “Laec get of your *** and start cutting!”
    Yes definitively Greg he thought as he grabbed the handle and stuck it hilt up into the nearest wall and sliced through it feeling no resistance. Within seconds there was an opening into complete darkness, a darkness which slowly started to creep inside.

    “Laec stop this instant! Give me that dagger before you do something you regret, it’s dangerous” Verenca said, stretching out her hand. Shaking.
    “I see you’re afraid sis, it’s an emotion I recognize. You’re right I can’t run from here, because outside of here is my mind and this room, this sanctuary you created is just something you made inside my mind as you came to shield you from it, after all you couldn’t have dragged me outside my own mind without me noticing and stopping you. But I wonder” he said as he started to cut up an even larger opening “what happens if I destroy this sanctuary? I hate you, but I’m much more afraid of you. You can smile and speak about how much you love and cherish me while planning on how to kill me. So how will my unconscious react to you when I let it in? Why don’t we find out? And he isn’t called a dagger, he’s Greg, my companion as you said. Maybe now that you met you think twice before trying to get inside my head. It’s not a nice place for you”

    With a last swing of Greg the darkness poured in, filling the room in a giant wave and the last thing Laec saw before being engulfed in it was his sister’s terrified face mouth open in a silent scream. Then everything went black.

    Groaning he raised his wet face, the beer having spilled over the table as he fell unconcscious to see the chaos that was in full swing. There was a full brawl going on, what in the seven hells had happened while he was out? Leaving his table he pushed himself through the mass as an odd light from the doorway caught his attention, not sure why but feeling that whatever that light was it meant no good to him he followed his instinct jumped behind an overturned table for protection.

    Nothing happening he looked up from his makeshift barricade, the light having disappeared leaving no more result than a bewildered crowd on the street that soon dispersed to drink away what the memory of whatever they had seen, except one man who stayed. He was huge, it was a wonder Laec hadn’t seen him in the crowd before, entirely dressed in black with a hat and scarf cowering his face, still Laec somewhat knew that he was staring straight at him. Remembering his sister’s mention at having sent somebody he turned 90 degrees and ran, hearing the footsteps behind him as the man chased after him. No matter how many alleys or shortcuts he used whenever he looked behind the man was always a few steps behind. If only he hadn’t used so much effort to shut Greg up, he was too exhausted to run properly. T

    urning again the man was gone, must have lost him he thought just before he ran into something stone hard which grabbed his shoulders preventing him from bouncing back, the man had somehow got in front of him. Struggling to break free did nothing except harden the grip, desperate Laec tried to unleash his magic which only resulted in a fist in his stomach, it was like being slammed with a bar of iron. The sheer force of the blow lifted him up, sending him flying into a wall. Struggling to regain his breath the man walked over and in a neutral voice he spoke “Do not try that again, I was told to bring you alive. I wasn’t told to bring you unharmed” Coughing Laec managed to speak “please…. Let me go” Lifting him up by the collar the man lifted him up to eyesight, “NO”

    “Let us go you bastard! Or I swear you regret it as I cut you up first chance I get!”
    As the threatening continued he located the source of the noise, noticing Greg first now he took him and stared at the dagger for a moment “I wasn’t told to bring you” and threw Greg into the nearest wall. Caught by the collar Laec felt how the man shifted his grip, taking a hold on his throat squeezing the windpipe, black spots exploding before his eyes.
    “Put him down, I got unfinished business with him”
    From the alley Leyden came out, five men behind him, crossbows raised.
    “Put your weapons down. You want him dead? He be in a few days”
    “This isn’t about revenge, I have been made a laughing stock and need to make an example or else I might as well wave my men goodbye and cut my own throat”
    “If you try to take him I will kill you”
    The pressure on his throat disappearing he was momentarily saved from being hauled off to his sister by the second group of people that was set out on killing him, he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh, settling at gasping for air.
    Last edited by Befram; 06-08-2011 at 11:53 PM.

  24. #49
    Norrin Radd's Nerd Rage Reputation: 29
    lokuri's Avatar
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    Talking This is the longest Hiro has ever talked! (I hope this won't be an unbeatable record)

    Hiro shifted his gaze from his sister and his tormentor, taking in his surroundings. A flicker of gold caught his eye, desperately fending off the murky waters below and the deep blue that beckoned night above. It was getting darker, yet no light reached where the three stood. Even the few boats bobbing in the distance, drifting closer to the dock a few miles away, couldn't brighten their surroundings. There had to be some source of light upon nightfall, be it lamps or torches, yet there was no signs of either.

    Turning his head further behind him, Hiro finally understood why it was eerily dark. He had wondered why his steps became unsteady as he followed Cerelis a moment ago. The land was disheveled around him, making the terrain rigid and uneven. A hill formed from the chaos of the land, blocking any lights or intrigued eyes from reaching them. The rowdiness and drunken nature of those who refused to retire for a night's rest also made it difficult to hear any disturbances. All of those facts came to one point: Richelieu had chosen the perfect spot for his "performance."

    "Heheheh... How innocent of you, lamentable prince, to meander so willingly into your own demise. Oh, but I cannot blame you. After all, this enthralling princess beside me is the only relative of yours that I spared. Cheers to the only heirs to the throne, only...-- Ah, how could I forget? Due to our untimely departure, my father had no choice but to usurp the throne. Avis must be no more under his rule, haha!"

    It had taken awhile, Hiro bidding his time to scan his surroundings, but the words spewing from Richelieu's lips was causing his heart to ache. These weren't mere taunts he was hearing. How could death be described in regards to a practical joke? Why did a cackle follow as if everything had been told by an omnipotent warlock? Hiro had faith in Richelieu during their judgment for the throne, yet those feelings had dwindled like dust in the wind. What stood before him was no more than a monster, one that wielded a bizarre, yet manipulative power that gave him authority. That definitely made him dangerous, but even more importantly, warped. Who else but a warped individual would admit to slaughtering a whole family so casually, save two? Unless...!

    "May I ask, if I grasp upon the wick'd truth obscur'd by your cruel deeds, how notably my sister's influence over sky and earth draws upon the interest of an entity such as yourself, ...Richelieu?"

    "What a pause before my name! Weren't we dear friends at one point, gracious Hiro? Or...have those memories receded beneath the bloodshed of those elves hardly measurable to the kin of animals?"

    "Cease your jesting! My presence before you after many seasons past is not for stories long gone, is it not? An aura seep'd in yearn for a duel, a test of might, do you not?"

    There was no response, not even a snicker. Richelieu lowered his head, his bangs and the shadows of night concealing his face ominously. Then, a smirk crept upon his lips, his arm extending outwards, revealing what was once hidden: his weapon.

    His fingers weaved expertly amongst the auburn thorns ensnarling the wooden pole, not once pricking them. Without an expert eye, it would have been impossible to recognize the fine, elven wood of the base being overshadowed by the spiraling thicket. Hiro would have to be cautious of those ink black thorns if he dared to get close, but his main concern resided at the top. A sharpened tip belonging to a golden spear head would allow for long distance. Interrupting the pole and the spear head were three short blades stretched to connect in between tiny diamonds decorating the rest of the ring. At this point, the weapon would have resembled a halberd, and it would have been deemed so, had there not been an elongated crescent looming like a scythe. As a whole, it was a triple threat, complete with a silver ribbon glimmering with moonlight.

    "I hope your swordplay hasn't rusted much! Should I give you a handicap? You do seem quite weary."

    "Let us begin. I mustn't keep my companion in solitude for much longer, and my sister has suffered enough by your tainted hands!"

    "Your flowery speech has become curt. Very Well! Allow me to assess how formidable of an opponent you are, Hiro."

    In a feint sweep through his ebony locks, Hiro tapped the stick of equal darkness swaying slightly behind him. Life seemed to be granted to the inanimate object, for it jerked and bounced wildly towards the sky. Then it froze, if only for a second, bursting with a robust wind. Rock fragments danced like anarchist around what now was a sword, giving it an enigmatic presence. All too soon, the shadowy blade was tamed by Hiro's left hand, the hilt aimed at Richelieu.

    The first move was already played, Richelieu's hunched body bolting at Hiro head-on. The spear atop his weapon transformed into a lance, ready to strike. A lone tooth that hungered for the gash on Hiro's dominant forearm. If he didn't react instantly, Hiro would be at a disadvantage before the match even began. But there wasn't an ounce of worry in his eyes. His criss-crossing feet easily eluded the blow, followed by a backwards counter. The two were now back-to-back, the Arsaen Sword crackling as Richelieu struggled to maintain his strength. The collision broke, and the two elves leapt backwards, neither of them backing down.

    "Do you have faith in your purity? Fighting me now is utterly useless. You can't rescue your precious sister. She's my slave. I even have a legal contract. If you were wise, you'd scurry off to your guard duty! This is a cruel world, filled with distrust, bitterness, and hatred amongst races like and unlike. You won't last as an innocent prince."

    "I can and will cope with any reality, be it pleasant or be it morbid. Come, our battle shall advance whilst we bask in your spoken memoirs."

    "Then, from the beginning..."

    There was a pause, a flurry of wind whizzing through the leaves of the gnarled trees nearby. The noisy encounter backfired into Hiro's face, as if aiding his opponent. Richelieu's gait dissolved in the caterwauling, practically inaudible to Hiro's ears, save the need for haste. No matter how discreet his steps could be, the snap of a twig or the crunch of dried grass would give Richelieu away. Instinctively, Hiro rotated his sword 180 degrees. Inch by inch, his legs edged further apart, his toes digging firmly into the ground. The gust faded into a breeze, and with it, so did the surprise attack. Forcing the axe portion of Richelieu's weapon away from his neck, Hiro finally heard them: words.

    At first, it was gibberish, meaningless garble compared to who would be knocked back first. Concentration came with a price: anything that seems irrelevant was ignored. But as he listened, a story was pieced together in Hiro's mind. Distracting or not, it was a story that was impossible to ignore. Richelieu's past was unknown to Hiro, a blank sheet that only filled during Richelieu's time in Avis. And even more astounding was the content of his tale, for it indeed sounded like a tale belonging to a stranger. Richelieu's past and present was like yin and yang, his younger self even bearing another name: Nalin.

    ****** An Affinity for Purity ******

    Laughter. Hiro had heard it often from the elf known as Richelieu, yet this time, it was lighter, airy, ...pure.

    The virtue of youth, the bliss of ignorance: those qualities embraced the elven child called Nalin. Tilting his head up at the sky and brushing away his black locks, Nalin studied the bridges connecting each home with honeydew eyes. Each piece of wood glistened as if aging was a myth. Occasionally, a wall would lose its lust, the bark of the mighty trees beneath it creaking from thirst. At those times, Nalin would outstretch his arms, close his eyes, and feel the core of life within the wood rejuvenate. That ability had offered him much praise and love from the tight-knit folk he lived with and around. Of course, the village Nalin was raised in was so tiny, no name was given to it. It was simply dubbed "a sanctum for tree elves" by the inhabitants, and for a good reason: it was a hidden village, tucked away on the outskirts of Farglow.

    Currently, Nalin was returning from the rich source of water flowing around the right side of the village. The "bucket" was handmade, a shabby pouch with a handle made by his truly. When he tried to show his mother, Nalin unknowingly interrupted her work by stepping on a few of her crops. Fuming, his mother began to lecture him as she tended to her crops, only to have a giggle fit the moment she saw his handiwork. She tried her best to regain her composure by asking him to fetch more water for her, a tedious journey when you live amongst trees. On top of that, his wimpy arms buckled from the weight, the bucket needing two hands to carry.

    Taking a breath, Nalin leaned against a tree, panting. That's when he saw them: fleeting, suspicious shapes foreign to his eyes. Even though it was a short interval, he was able to count six. Six strangers, all holding strange weapons and built unlike anyone he ever saw. His heart told him to stay away, that danger was approaching the more his family, friends, neighbors, and companions waited. Afraid, awe-struck, and slightly dizzy, Nalin climbed his way to the top, finding any short-cut that came into sight. His mother would be the first person he'd tell, but as she became closer and closer, his mind no longer seemed to function. His mouth would open, but his throat felt dry, perhaps swollen. Even worse, the emotions suppressing his means of communication were...different. What was this feeling of panic, and what would it foreshadow?

    Death. Blood. Screams. Confusion. But before that: a serenity so strong, so hypnotic, Nalin's fears couldn't pierce it. Was it his fault? The stress of undergrown crops, the fustration of hunting skittish animals, the sorrow of losing a loved one. All those feelings that could hinder a person's capabilities, Nalin could alleviate them. But in the process, any need for panic, any awareness of threats: nonexistant. The only individuals not affected by the calmness, who needed their reflexes and accuracy to fill empty stomachs, were the main hunters.

    Those hunters included Nalin's father, who, surprisingly, returned with a few of his comrades. Most of them faught back, managing to maim four, but compared to the six, there were only three on the side of the village. Everyone else was useless, either escaping when the time was right or protecting the elderly and young. As the numbers dwindled, Nalin's father took aim, his bow never missing a kill. But he was too nice, too naive. The life he spared took his life, and his allies eagerly returned the favor ten-fold. Their weapons choked their victims, caused them to writhe in pain, tormenting them as long as possible.

    Everyone who remained in the village died. Everyone but Nalin. His pale eyes were mistaken for death, his body littered with corpses, his frail, pale complexion stained with blood.


    "The purer the soul, the more likely it becomes impure. If not, you'll break and crumble into nothingness. That's what my true father said, the father you knew and met." The clashing duo shifted into a one-sided stumble on Hiro's part, but his guard wasn't ruined. "There's no such thing as righteousness. Only foolishness and hastened deaths. And promises are for the weak, like my birth father. He had this rediculous notion to only kill enough to survive, yet he purposedly missed any vital parts on those intruders that slaughtered over a dozen people. Do you understand? You're no different. But you know what? I only complied to your silly antics because I thought it was all a ruse. Revolting!"

    All the resentment Richelieu practically spat at Hiro was followed by a ferocious barrage of hacking. If murder wasn't on his mind, then he'd certainly terrify Hiro until he was flat on his back. Immobilized, it took all his might just to stay standing, the Arsaen Sword quivering in the palms of his hands. For some reason, the wound on his forearm scorched with pain. Perhaps it was the effect of his flexing muscles? Perhaps the effort of clutching the hilt was too much? Or...perhaps it was time for his blade to transform.

    Tugging his body towards the ground, his head pressed upon it, Hiro managed to dodge-roll out of the way just in time. The sound of metal raking free of soil resonated from where he previously stood. There was no time. His right hand banged upon the earth, the sword vibrating in his left hand. Wozziness was returning. His vision was blurring. But still, if he gave up now, nothing would be accomplished. So, he inhaled the night air, bent his elbow in anticipation, and kicked off the ground. At the same time, his sword shattered, the tiny pieces growing, a new shape emerging. A whistle alerted Hiro of Richelieu's position, the silver crescent whizzing through the air. Just as it touched Hiro, a splash of blood spraying from the right side of his waist, he disappeared from sight. All that was left was a rocky wind, a long pole, a crimson pebbles from Hiro's new injury. Bewilderment was the last expression on Richelieu's face before it kissed dirt.

    "Y-you...must be the only prince-" A break for coughing, as well as a scowl. "-to kick someone in the face."

    At first, Hiro didn't know how to respond. Was it his imagination? When his foot was about to make contact, he felt nothing. Nevertheless, Richelieu fell flat on his face, his movements matching Hiro's kick. But he couldn't muse over it, the match still underway. "I am but a prince in memory since my departure from Avis. My existance is equal to that of an exile, yet...I shant ever comply to such decadence as that which ruined you!

    "Ha! Bold words for someone in your state. You wobble just from talking!"

    "My body weakens from exhaustion, but my will shall not falter."

    "Fine, the test continues. But first, the truth I know you've been dying to hear..."

    ****** The Meeting of Impure Souls ******

    Three years after the tragedy, Nalin had been discovered and raised by nomadic tree elves.

    They were compliant, turning a blind eye to the blood stains solidified upon his cheecks, arms, and legs. Anyone else would have deemed him a fiend, a broken soul that couldn't be mended. But over the years, Nalin discovered he wasn't the only one broken. Orphans, crippled warriors, elders wasting away: it was a troupe for the downtrodden. All of them couldn't return home, and they'd never have a home to return to. Yet they were different. They sought for a glimmer of hope, a chance to redeem themselves. Three years ago, Nalin could have been their light as "Nature's Healer," his rejuvenating gift affecting everything and everyone. But now it affected nothing and no one, as if his powers died with his pure self.

    After awhile, the rumors began. He was an unwanted guest, a cursed boy who could only bring disaster with him. Plants would cring if his fingers got too close, and sickness would develop within anyone who tried to open their heart to him. Most of the gossip was fabricated, but they weren't all lies. Even the elves that housed him felt weary of his presence. The mother of the house was always bedridden, the father was always busy, and the grandfather always looked down upon Nalin. He probably was the one who warned everyone, and when another massacre struck around Nalin, the grandfather wasn't surprised in the slightest.

    By the time his and all the other migrants felt their lives slip away, Nalin was already isolated, not a single individual rushing to protect him.

    Oddly, the murderer allowed him to live. It wasn't because he pleaded for mercy. It wasn't because he cried out to the heavens. It was because the moment he looked up, he saw himself, and vise versa. The mystical sword hovering over Nalin's head dispelled the ravenous beasts that snacked upon flesh and bones, the very beasts that fed on Hiro's family. The defiled tree elf had meant to chop Nalin's head off, a personal favor to the elf who stood still as everyone panicked, but he found himself intrigued. Instead of ending his life, Nalin's hair was tousled and a name was spoken: Antaes. It held a similar meaning to Nalin's name, yet discarded it for another one: Damek.


    "It was after my encounter with Damek that I changed my name from Nalin to Richelieu. After that, we observed the way tree elves, spirit elves, and blood elves interacted with one another. It was shocking. Everyone has two face, two sides. But what happens when natives with similar appearances, but different lifestyles, break apart? They're said to be the descendents of the pure elf, yet there's nothing pure about them! The only difference between Damek and myself compared to them is that they conceal their ill intents behind pretty words and practiced gestures. It was like watching a play that never ends!"

    "I suppose the journey your father and yourself embarked upon confirmed your suspicions? Then the both of you arrived in Cyre, which means my presence here is not accidental. The residents of a grand city, mingling with diverse folk...they must significantly attract the conflicting dispositions you spoke of prior, correct?"

    "Correct. No matter how far we traveled, it was the same. But all those lands were claimed. That's when my father desired to venture to foreign lands, to conquer and spread fear in the likes of such people. In our search, we found Avis."
    Last edited by lokuri; 07-25-2011 at 01:51 PM.

    Nurarihyon no Mago!
    Inpa: "...I got your mask already, look! Isn't it pretty?”
    Balthazar: ”Urgh.. !! It's pink..”
    Inpa: ”Oh please, it's called being metrosexual!..."
    -- farag0n; Tales of Amn

  25. #50
    Dante’s Inferno Reputation: 36
    Anglo's Avatar
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    Chapter Two:


    And so the threads that weave our hero’s fates are slowly intertwining. As they reach the city of Cyre, little do they know of the path that lies ahead of them. Whether they choose to acknowledge it or not, the fate of Cyradon rests upon them and only them.

    The borders are shifting, and a new threat swiftly emerges. The Iconian dynasty and its legionaries quickly seek diplomatic elucidations to avoid a full scale war, but a nation conflict is on the brink... and that is the least of Heoden’s worries…As well as a nation war, a primordial evil has ended its slumber.

    A magnificent city teaming with life, Cyre is just the beginning of this perilous quest that will decide the fate of the world for ages to come…


    // Alarei \\

    The dark of night shaded Alarei’s advances towards Cyre’s city gates. The flickers of the guard’s torches pushed through the distance, finally revealing Alarei’s silhouette as he approached vigilantly. Looking at Alarei’s exotic clothing, the guard took him for a foreigner.

    Guard: “State ye business foreigner!

    Alarei: “Regardless of my business, you choose to ask that question instead of who I am first. Where I come from, that’s considered impolite.”

    The guard didn’t reply, but brought his torch closer to Alarei’s worn face. Alarei turned his visage away slightly.

    Guard: “I won’t ask again. What business do you have in Cyre?”

    Alarei: “The name you might be seeking is Alarei, that is my name and don’t you forget it. I am not here for trouble, I seek shelter for the night, and in the morning I seek workers for manual labour, for I am an archaeologist in search for exotic artefacts.”

    The guard stroked his bearded chin and contemplated Alarei’s story for a moment, before nodding his head in agreement and allowing him to pass through. The guard stopped Alarei abruptly, grabbing his arm before he continued, and spoke to him.

    Guard: “If you’re looking for a nice place to rest, try the Hangover Haven…you may also find your workers there. Grace their palms with silver and they’ll quickly join your expedition.”

    Alarei nodded cheerfully and continued into Cyre, breathing in the regal freshness that the air had to offer him.

    Alarei: “Home…” he thought to himself.

    // Pure Elf \\

    The fiery peaks of Nazgral stood a few feet away from the pure elf as he regained consciousness once more. Along with his new attire, which consisted of bits of torn rags stitched together, he found that he had also been outfitted with an augmented gauntlet, along with a suicide collar; which effects didn’t need explaining. He rose to his feet, stumbling; the effects of the drug which had been administered earlier still hadn’t worn off. He began taking in his surroundings to try and discern at least some kind of knowledge to where he was.

    The pure elf was surrounded by scorched mountains, and what seemed to be a scarred battlefield behind him; a large charred desert plane which contained the corpses of the most ancient of men. The mouth of a mountain opened up before him, thousands of slaves, just like him were entering and leaving the mine in two lazy files, the ones who entered were wearing similar gauntlets to him, whilst the people leaving the mine were carrying sacks of some kind of special ore.

    Joining the queue, the pure elf asked one of the fellow slaves ahead of him what was going on.

    Pure Elf: “Excuse me” he said, touching the slaves shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

    “You’ll find out soon enough...alien”

    Puzzled, the pure elf did not press anymore into the matter and waited until he could find somebody that could tell him how and why he ended up here, but from the looks of things, the answer would not be good. Trying to escape would be pointless without knowing where he was, he would be lost in this desert for weeks without food and water, and would eventually die a pitiful soul, so judging from the options he had left to him, the pure elf took the obvious choice.

    Finally reaching the insides of the darkened mines, the pure elf found himself amazed at what he had found. The mine spanned the length of what seemed to be further than the eye could see, and it did no justice to even comprehend the depth of the quarry. The walls were lined with a special blueish ore which seemed to sparkle and glisten when exposed to torch light, a very valuable ore if the pure elf had ever seen one.

    Pure Elf: “There must be thousands working down here…” he spoke aloud, bedazzled by this discovery.
    Following the queue further down, the Pure Elf was stopped by a voice that only referred to him as ‘alien’. Turning around, the pure elf found himself summoned by who appeared to be his captor, who was obviously protected by many of his personal guard.

    Belmont: “How do you like your new surroundings alien? You had better get used to them, for you will be spending most of your time here...” He chuckled at his own deprecating humour to which his guards meekly joined.

    The pure elf ground his teeth together in response, but chose not to let his anger get the best of him.

    Pure Elf: “You’ll pay for what you’ve done to me Bastard!”

    Belmont: “Hush filth, you work for me now. Now get to work and mine this mineral…” he revealed part of the blue ore from out under his jacket and presented it in front of himself, chucking it lightly in the air and catching it. “Make me rich slave, or suffer the consequences.”

    The guards slowly moved towards the pure elf, forcing him to turn and join with the ever so slowly moving queue again, until he reached the place in which he would mine this mineral for his ‘beloved’ owner.
    Last edited by Anglo; 08-05-2011 at 09:36 PM.

    Revenge Solves Everything.

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