Page 10 of 37 FirstFirst 123456789101112131415161718192035 ... LastLast
Results 271 to 300 of 1102
  1. - Top - End - #271
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    BladeofObliviom's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2011

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    ((Not my best work, but I only had half an hour set aside.))

    Part 1: The Awakening

    Roselia did not recieve the same comforts as her other fallen bretheren. Like Lossethir, she arrived in a frozen wasteland. Unlike Lossethir, she was saved only by the fact that the spirit had been courteous enough to deposit her in a cave, where she would not simply die to frostbite and the creatures skittering upon the ice. Even then, things seemed grim for the beloved daughter of the White City: the speed of the Spirit of Haste had allowed her to escape the horror that had attacked her father, an unfortunate concussion along the way had left her unconscious.

    Now, however, she awoke. A pair of blue eyes flickered open to an unfamiliar ceiling, lit only by the viridian luminescence of the mossy coating upon the walls, and the muted sound of a gasp escaped into the chilling underground air. She was alone. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. Father couldn't watch over her here, and most of her siblings were far away. Even Lossethir, the closest, would take months of travel to reach. Not that Roselia would know that. Yet.

    Another chilling wind reached the bowel of this cavern, and the iridescent light continued to fall upon her like leaves in the Autumn. With some effort, she managed to stand. Her vision was still a bit blurry, but she could at least see the exit. Stumbling forward, stepping with care so as not to fall once again, Roselia began to ascend.

    This section of the cave was dark and winding. Patches of the moss still grew along the walls, but they seemed impotent somehow, missing the same strength that they had in the larger cavity. Feeling forward with hand and foot alike, she managed to navigate upward without injuring herself. About halfway through the strange, winding tunnel, a sensation of further loneliness and terror hit Rose like a freight train. Still, despite the palpable fear of the unknown holding her back, the desperation of her situation drove her yet onward.

    At the top of the tunnel, no light appeared. Of course not. After all, the light at the end of the tunnel would be expected. However, one of her other senses, one that she didn't even know she had, was assaulted by a wave of thoughts and whispers, and she collapsed into the snow with a pair of yellow eyes looking down upon her.
    Spoiler
    Show


    Normal Avatar by Thormag!

  2. - Top - End - #272
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    shorewood's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jul 2009
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    "Butterhold... can you make a ship? Like the Floating Bubble that was in the White City? Or was it called the Winged Wonder? No, no. I never did get to name it. Ohhhhh... that's frustrating. Anyways, can you make another one? I could help this time!"
    Looking at his bother sister Haramhold nods "Aye we can do that. It will be fun..." the last sentence perhaps was a bit strained. Haramhold had never worked on a project with Jongo before and the prospect made him a little nervous.

    But despite Haramhold's fears it was surprisingly fun. Usually when Haramhold works on a project he looses himself completely in it, giving great time and effort in every detail. This brings Haramhold a sense of fulfillment and pride. But working with Jongo was a whole different story. One day Haramhold would be seasoning the wood in the morning only to find himself dragged out into the countryside looking for that perfect sheep whose wool would be a perfect part of the sail. At first he was quite annoyed, this was not how things were done. But as the weeks passed Haramhold found that the uncertainty of what part of the ship would receive their attentions today was kind of exciting.

    Haramhold choose strong oak and the finest steel for the ships hull and components. He gilded the railings and mast with silver and gold, covering the ship with beautiful swirls. Amanda also helped in the ships construction making the trip back to the crystal cave to cultivate and grow the crystals which would power the ship. Returning a week later with a basket filled with crystals of every shade and hue that glowed and pulsed with a vibrant light. Thus the ship was steadily and erratically constructed.

    It took them three weeks to complete the vessel and what a fine vessel she was, lean and graceful and strong. Haramhold looked up where she floated in the sky and felt happy. Feeling a touch on his arm the god looks over to see Amanda singling him to get a different view. Haramhold suspiciously complied seeing that a Jongo like smile stretched across her face.
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  3. - Top - End - #273
    Troll in the Playground
    Join Date
    Mar 2011
    Location
    Australia

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Quote Originally Posted by Raz_Fox View Post
    Kalandor in the Rocklands

    The land Kalandor the Traveler would find himself in was a far cry from the land where he had ascended. It was harsh and bright, a land where the ground was often either hard rock or loose sand, and where fields capable of growing even the slightest food were rare. Tall spires, shaped by wind and rain, towered in unearthly geometries in the tall hill country, before it fell down towards the southern deserts, or rose up into the forbidding mountains of the north.

    Tribal camps were scattered across this land, moving outwards from a central point, a tall hill that could be seen from miles off. The ruins upon it must once have been great, but were now nothing more than broken shards stabbing at the sky; as he came closer, he could see that it had been turned into one great encampment, complete with small wooden palisades on the paths ascending the hill that could be used to turn it into a rough fortress, one easily broken by a more concerted military assault. Larger camps were set up in the land all around it, and these camps were a veritable mixture of disparate cultures all blending together, creating a unique and diverse culture all their own.

    The people of these camps were, likewise, a mixture. Some were tall, some were short, but most had either bronzed skin or dusk-dark skin, and black hair that either hung in curls or fell straight, caught up into ponytails among both men and women. The men typically wore, out-of-doors, hoods and veils designed to protect them from the hot sun, while women still wore neither of these, but crude jewelry instead, made from leather thongs and sand-smoothed pebbles. However, they were slowly moving into something new and strange for them - a world where a man could cook, and a woman could hunt with the men.

    They were, it must be said, suspicious of strangers, and unless he went directly to his sister – who he would find curing an outbreak of fever in one corner of the encampment – or introduced himself as the brother of Fayruz, Kalandor ever-yearning, he would find little friendship among them.
    When Kalandor Travelled he travelled as an animal. It was easier, though anoying when you accidentally chose a hunted animal. He was however, much faster than any four legged or winged creture had any right to be. Playing as an insect was intresting, as long as he kept enough of a sheild to not be stepped on or attacked by insectavores (It's intresting fighting your way out of a bird when you don't want to make the bird explode in a shower of gore, possibly in public.).

    Kalandor was very much tempted to enter as a traveller, but instead chose to surprise his sister, appearing out of nowhere and talking about medicine should do the trick.

    And so, entering one of the huts she was working in, he waited as a small and rather insignificant bettle, that radiated no aura of divinity. When all were turned away, Kalandor reformed, containing his divinity and hiding it. When Fayruz turned from her patient, Kalandor spoke up, while revealing his divinity.
    "Might I suggest Kanador Root, if any grows in the region. Some of my worshipers recommend it for its potency and it's ease of transport, however they arn't quite human so i'm unsure if it would be entirely healthy."
    My Homebrew Sig.

    Woo, I have a Quote.
    Quote Originally Posted by Moonwolf727 View Post
    To avoid harming the sanity of the DM I can no longer:

    * Cast flesh to stone on a annoying Druid
    ** Cast Rock to mud on a Druid statue
    *** Scoop mud into little ceramic pots
    **** Plant tree's in individual ceramic pots
    ***** Claim that I have helped them become one with nature
    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.

  4. - Top - End - #274
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Raz_Fox's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Location
    Imladris
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Quote Originally Posted by Erik Vale View Post
    Spoiler
    Show
    When Kalandor Travelled he travelled as an animal. It was easier, though anoying when you accidentally chose a hunted animal. He was however, much faster than any four legged or winged creture had any right to be. Playing as an insect was intresting, as long as he kept enough of a sheild to not be stepped on or attacked by insectavores (It's intresting fighting your way out of a bird when you don't want to make the bird explode in a shower of gore, possibly in public.).

    Kalandor was very much tempted to enter as a traveller, but instead chose to surprise his sister, appearing out of nowhere and talking about medicine should do the trick.

    And so, entering one of the huts she was working in, he waited as a small and rather insignificant bettle, that radiated no aura of divinity. When all were turned away, Kalandor reformed, containing his divinity and hiding it. When Fayruz turned from her patient, Kalandor spoke up, while revealing his divinity.
    "Might I suggest Kanador Root, if any grows in the region. Some of my worshipers recommend it for its potency and it's ease of transport, however they arn't quite human so i'm unsure if it would be entirely healthy."
    "Kalandor!" Fayruz quickly rose and was across the tent in a moment, throwing her arms around him. "It's so wonderful to see you again, brother! Have you met any others? Haramhold sent me a message, and Faden; oh, Faden lives to the north, across the sea! Have you met any of the others? Are they safe?" Then, suddenly, she reached up and let her hand caress his face, pulling his gaze to meet her eyes. "You found yourself," she said, softly, almost in awe. "I knew... I knew Faden had, and surely Haramhold, but, well, I didn't get to talk to them... you have found yourself, and you're the dust on the paths between the camps, and the beating of the horses' hooves on the rocks..." She shook her head with a smile. "Listen to me... I'm just so happy to see you here, brother. Please, wait just a moment, there are people here who still need my help."

    Once the fevers were cured, through the application of Fayruz's power - which she wielded, as she always did, with wordless songs that had come straight from the White City, unconsciously, as she laid her hands on the sick and feverish - she invited her brother to eat with her in the great tent that the Fayheran had erected for her, looking out over the river of the Olm. There would not be too much to eat, true, but with her brother here, Fayruz would give what little there was eagerly.

    Fayruz herself was, well, much different than when Kalandor had seen her last. She was still beautiful, when she pulled down her roughly-stitched mask and pulled back her hood, letting her dark curls fall loosely down her dust-covered robe and all about her still-pale face, but it was the way she'd moved that betrayed her growth the most. Fayruz, while in the White City, had moved with either cheerful innocence or, when she was sad or worried, hesitance. She would gingerly step here and there, fragile and pale, until she saw a chance to cheer her siblings up. Now, she moved with confidence, smooth and regal, self-assured.

    Her eyes, too – they would have been the first thing Kalandor saw, while she was masked and hooded like the men of the rocklands. They were leonine, golden and bright, the eyes of a princess. And, when she saw him, they had widened in overjoyed recognition, showing clearly her delight at seeing her brother. But, in them, there was a glint of power restrained and kept firmly controlled, strength that Fayruz wielded with the utmost grace. Make no mistake, she was as much a divinity as her brothers and sisters, even if she acted with humility and quiet love rather than extravagantly displaying her power.

    Two men accompanied her, almost protectively. One was as tall as her, but strongly-built, wrapped in pale robes; a sling and pouch hung from his crude rope belt, and he had the stance and eyes of a warrior, and a weathered face. When Kalandor had arrived, he had been busy offering water from a clay basin to those cured of fever by Fayruz, his mask and hood lowered within the tent; he had, once Fayruz embraced her brother, risen and greeted him as well. He smiled little, but gave Kalandor a nod of approval and a quiet word of welcome, his voice low and steady.

    The second was tall and thin, built like their brother Llassar, and he had neither mask or hood, something that was – to the people of the rocklands – distinctly feminine. What made his refusal even more curious was that something had done a very credible job of ripping his face off, with deep gouges still visible, slashing across his temple in three long lines down to his jaw, cutting open his nose and lips. It's a wonder that he hadn't been blinded by whatever had attempted to destroy his face. His eyes were half-lidded in a permanent state of disdain or foolishness, the remnants of old wounds still visible on his lids, and his grin when Kalandor was introduced was a wide and disturbingly sharp thing. When he called Kalandor a man of his liking, grasping his shoulder tightly and giving it a shake, his voice was scratchy and hoarse, but exuberant nonetheless.

    But, it was obvious, both had a deep attachment to Fayruz. Had Kalandor been some assassin sent by the darkness that had destroyed the White City, the way the two acted hinted that they would not let him lay a hand on Fayruz until they were both dead. Beyond that, they were as different as night and day – the soldier was a man of few quiet words, while the scarred man would happily talk for him in his scratched voice; the soldier seemed measured and careful in his actions, while the scarred man was careless and gangly, as if trusting that fate would guide his hands; the soldier was quiet and sober, a man of deep emotions shown seldom, while the scarred man was easily provoked into laughter or a wide grin.

    It was quite obvious to see that, while Fayruz's people still struggled, and Fayruz herself was pale with constant exertion on behalf of her people, keeping them safe from sickness and injury in a hostile world, she was still quite happy here, and safe. Looking at her, it was quite easy to believe that she would do her best to remake the White City among mortalkind, and one could almost believe it when she smiled, and her golden eyes glowed for a moment.
    -build that wall and build it strong-
    Kasanip - best artist; Rarity - best smile; Thanqol - good Question
    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dervag View Post
    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  5. - Top - End - #275
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Gengy's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2005

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Building the Ship

    Haramhold wanted to do things the boring way.

    Jongo wasn't having any of that.

    Leaving Haramhold to work out the finer details - since Jongo knew nothing about, and was not interested in, shipwright work - Jongo spent the first couple of days just learning the lay of the land around Salus.

    It started by Jongo approaching Amanda. "Hello, my dear! I need to see your sheep."

    "Our sheep, Lord Jongo?"

    "Oh no, no, no. That won't do. Lord Jongo? No, no, no. I'm not your father, with a town and people to call my own - not yet." Jongo looked towards the ocean as she said this, slightly wistfully. "No... not yet. So. You may just call me... hmmm... Aunt or Uncle."

    "Aunt or Uncle?"

    "Yes."

    "Why one or the other? Are you not a man?"

    "Has your father ever said I am a man?"

    "No. Now that you mention it, father has always said you were his sibling. Not brother, or sister. I didn't notice till now. Why is that?"

    "Excellent question!" Jongo grinned. "Now... about your sheep?"

    "But..." Amanda appeared confused, but Jongo forestalled any further questions by moving up to her and putting an arm around her shoulder.

    "Really, Amanda-girl, this is important. Now, no more questions for now. I just want you to say 'Yes, Uncle' or 'Yes, Auntie' - whichever you prefer - and show me your sheep."

    "...yes, Uncle." So she showed Jongo Salus's sheep.

    And then, the next day, Amanda showed Jongo the nearby forests. Then the river. And the rock quarry.

    All the while, Jongo regaled Amanda with nonsense and fun conversation, none of which either of them can really remember. They only remember laughing.

    So after three days, it was with a bit of surprise when Amanda asked, "Where is father?"

    "Oh? Butterfly? He's a bit of a busybody. Haven't you noticed? He gets too focused. It's boring. Makes wonderful things, but... well, he wouldn't find this as fun. Don't worry about him."

    "But he should be here, shouldn't he? Aren't you looking at the parts needed for this... ship thing?"

    "Ship thing? Ship thing? Oh dear. We're not going to deal with that again. I'll have to figure out a name for it. I'll think on that." Jongo mused again, and looked lost for a second. The Band of Chaos took the time to sing out, and Jongo had an idea. "But... you're right. Haramfly can be a bit of a stick in the mud once he's sunk his teeth in a project. Let's change that, you and I!"

    "How?"

    "Why, the same way I got you to come with me... we show him the sheep, right?"

    "...yes, Uncle." Amanda was starting to smirk.

    "That a girl!"

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    So Jongo pulled her brother along to other places, and let whimsy dictate what they'd work on that day. But Jongo knew that once a task had been set for the day, to leave Haramhold alone to do his work. It was better that way.

    Amanda left for a week, and Jongo barely noticed, so caught up in ideas. When Amanda returned, Jongo was delighted to see she had more crystals for him.

    "That's excellent, Amanda-girl! With that, the ship - still working on a name - will really fly!"

    "Yes. It should be very fast on the water, Uncle. But the crystals will make it go faster?"

    "Water? Oh. OH. Well, yes, on the water, it'll be fast. But no, I meant that those crystals, in the right spot, will help make the ship fly."

    "...along the water, right Uncle?" Amanda still appeared perplexed.

    "Yes. And fly. Like a bird. In the air."

    Amanda was silent for a moment, staring down at the bucket in her hands, full of crystals. Then she looked over at the frame of the ship, slowly taking shape near the river's edge.

    "Ships float on the water, don't they Uncle?"

    "Yes."

    "And this one will too?"

    "Yes. And..." Jongo prompted, hoping she would get it.

    She did. "...and it will fly in the sky, won't it?"

    "I'll make sure of it! It would be boring otherwise! Your father knew that, so that's why he's been letting me talk to the wood. And the pegs. And the sailcloth. And the ropes! But the ropes were a bit tongue-tied, and knot used to talking." Jongo cackled at her own jokes.

    "So how will the crystals help?"

    "Why don't we ask them?"

    "Ask... them?"

    "Amanda-girl, you're too practical. Got that from too much time around your father, I guess. Not a bad thing, but sometimes... sometimes you should just... Look. Don't question it. Just go with it!"

    "Yes, Uncle."

    So Jongo took up the crystals, and whispered to them, while the Band of Chaos sung a melody of unusually quiet music. "Hello, my pretty little friends. You are looking beautiful today. I know I'm not Haramhold, but I'd like to ask a favor. If we can make you more beautiful, and put you in a lovely place, with a nice setting, would you find some magic, and hold on to it? Just hold it. And when it gets to be too much, you can let it out. Let it go. Let it change what is around you, and fill it with power. Doesn't that sound nice?"

    Amanda watched. Jewely watched. The crystals, plain and almost dull, began to glow, as they swallowed the magic around them, and held it.

    "See, Amanda-girl? Just have to ask. Most things are willing to listen. But don't tell your Uncle Faden that. He'd probably jump out of his skin! Speaking of which..." Jongo, for the third time that day, changed to a different shape. He grew a long beard, and making herself quite short, but with stocky broad shoulders. Jongo removed the pointy ears he had begun to grow fond of, and shouted out, "Dwarf! Finally got it right."

    "Uncle, you look more like a man with that beard," Amanda teased.

    "My dear, you've obviously never met a female dwarf." Jongo began to laugh, and Amanda couldn't help it. It was infectious.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    They found the paint a week later, when the ship was nearly done.

    After the inevitable paint fight, Amanda had to wash in the river three times to get all the colors out.

    Jongo just giggled and tittered, and kept painting with hands that had shifted to long, multiple fingered bristles, calmly massaging each inch of the wood till it held the orange paint. The strong oak just sighed, happily, and held the color without protest.

    The sails loved how blue they were.

    Jongo and Amanda decided not to tell Haramhold about the pink walls in his quarters.

    Jongo found her own quarters. Here, he sat for a day, and on the door into her cabin, whispered to a bowl of water, and each droplet slowly, carefully, pushed into the wood, into first one circle, then another smaller one. It wasn't carving. It was weathering.

    And with each droplet, the Symbol of Chaos soon took shape, marking this cabin forever more as Jongo's. Amanda noticed that her Uncle started sleeping in the cabin from this day forward.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Overall, it took only three weeks.

    The people of Salus marveled that they would go to bed one night, and the next morning, find entire parts of the ship had - seemingly - finished building themself.

    Most of them praised Haramhold for the miracles.

    Jongo didn't mind. They didn't know, nor need to know, that the wood that Haramhold had used and lovingly carved had been talked with, and asked to warp itself to be more pleasingly shaped.

    They didn't need to understand that the metals had been coerced into relaxing like water, to fill molds, and quicken without any cooling.

    No one but Jongo and the Band of Chaos - and maybe Haramhold, if he was paying attention - would see that the weave of the sails was in a circular pattern that was impossible for mortal hands to make. It was like the wool had curled around itself, over and over, to be more comfortable.

    The rigging and the mooring were content for now, and whistled in the wind. But the people of Salus did think that, sometimes, they seemed to move all own their own, out of the corner of their eyes.

    And everyone - everyone - saw the ship lift off for the first time.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Moments Before the As Yet Unnamed Ship Lifted Off

    Jongo was waiting for Haramhold next to the ship. It was a thing of beauty. Expertly crafted, and each piece seemed to fit together as though it had been grown like that, rather than crafted. It was a testament to Haramhold's ingenuity... and Jongo's eccentricity.

    "Are you ready, Brother? It's not done yet. It looks done. But we've got to make it fly. Our Father was going to do that for the other ship. This is ours. We'll need to concentrate. I've asked everything for it to be lighter, and done what I can. But we'll both have to put some energy into it. Holding hands will probably help." Today, Jongo was back to looking like the thin tall humanoid with long blond hair and pointy ears. Jongo reached out one sinewy hand to Haramhold, and put the other on the ship itself.

    "So. Pour your energy into the ship, and I'll do the same, and we'll give it the name I've thought of. That should do it. Ready?"

    Spoiler
    Show
    I'll wait for shorewood here. I leave it to you to describe the Ceremony. Just know that Jongo will shout out the name Green Morningstar at the end.
    Last edited by Gengy; 2012-02-29 at 02:19 AM.
    Spoiler
    Show
    "Fear the Gerbils, lads! For they will destroy you!" ~ DOOM

    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!
    ~avatar by myself

  6. - Top - End - #276
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    shorewood's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jul 2009
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    "So. Pour your energy into the ship, and I'll do the same, and we'll give it the name I've thought of. That should do it. Ready?"
    "Ready." and with that word Haramhold placed a calloused hand upon the ships hull and closed his eyes. Reaching down he drew forth a strand of his divine spark and sent it up his arm and into their ship where it merged with Jongo's own power. The energies intermingled and intertwined together as they expanded throughout every fiber of wood, every strand of metal and through every foot of rope and sail cloth.

    The light of their sparks shown forth from the two gods so brightly that the bystanders had to shield their eyes from its brilliance. When the surrounding mortals finally could see again they gasped in awe.

    The ship still sparkling rose into the crisp morning air, the sails unfurling by themselves to be filled by a sudden gust of wind which raced over the walls.

    Haramhold and Jongo looked upward as their creation rose into the sky swaying ever so slightly in the breeze. Both were speechless for a second.

    Jongo recovering first raised both his arms in joy announcing to the crowd, to his brother and most of all to the ship "I name you Green MorningStar!" and as he spoke his words a flash of golden light erupted from the side of the hull, and where it touched the wood the orange paint turned bright purple, spelling out the ship's name.

    As the god's stood there the men and women of Salus truly realized that they had been living with a god all these years. They had known intellectually but Haramhold was not one to brazenly show off his power. He had worked beside them for years, and it was hard to picture someone whom you've seen pound iron into nails as divine. Any doubt amongst the people was now gone.

    Haramhold smiled at his older sibling, finding it particularly funny that the ship named the Green Morningstar hadn't a speck of green anywhere on her.

    Loading the ship with the various supplies that would be needed was a relatively short task and when that was done Haramhold turned to Amanda and asked "Would you like to come with us?"

    Amanda thought for a moment, if Haramhold's siblings were anywhere close to as amusing and delightful and Jongo was then the trip would be worth it. And besides a part of her mind told her she wouldn't want to be separated from Haramhold for such a period of time. "I would love to."

    And so when the sun reached is zenith in the sky the three of them set off into the horizon.
    Last edited by shorewood; 2012-02-29 at 08:35 AM.
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  7. - Top - End - #277
    Troll in the Playground
    Join Date
    Mar 2011
    Location
    Australia

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by Raz_Fox View Post
    "Kalandor!" Fayruz quickly rose and was across the tent in a moment, throwing her arms around him. "It's so wonderful to see you again, brother! Have you met any others? Haramhold sent me a message, and Faden; oh, Faden lives to the north, across the sea! Have you met any of the others? Are they safe?" Then, suddenly, she reached up and let her hand caress his face, pulling his gaze to meet her eyes. "You found yourself," she said, softly, almost in awe. "I knew... I knew Faden had, and surely Haramhold, but, well, I didn't get to talk to them... you have found yourself, and you're the dust on the paths between the camps, and the beating of the horses' hooves on the rocks..." She shook her head with a smile. "Listen to me... I'm just so happy to see you here, brother. Please, wait just a moment, there are people here who still need my help."

    Once the fevers were cured, through the application of Fayruz's power - which she wielded, as she always did, with wordless songs that had come straight from the White City, unconsciously, as she laid her hands on the sick and feverish - she invited her brother to eat with her in the great tent that the Fayheran had erected for her, looking out over the river of the Olm. There would not be too much to eat, true, but with her brother here, Fayruz would give what little there was eagerly.

    Fayruz herself was, well, much different than when Kalandor had seen her last. She was still beautiful, when she pulled down her roughly-stitched mask and pulled back her hood, letting her dark curls fall loosely down her dust-covered robe and all about her still-pale face, but it was the way she'd moved that betrayed her growth the most. Fayruz, while in the White City, had moved with either cheerful innocence or, when she was sad or worried, hesitance. She would gingerly step here and there, fragile and pale, until she saw a chance to cheer her siblings up. Now, she moved with confidence, smooth and regal, self-assured.

    Her eyes, too – they would have been the first thing Kalandor saw, while she was masked and hooded like the men of the rocklands. They were leonine, golden and bright, the eyes of a princess. And, when she saw him, they had widened in overjoyed recognition, showing clearly her delight at seeing her brother. But, in them, there was a glint of power restrained and kept firmly controlled, strength that Fayruz wielded with the utmost grace. Make no mistake, she was as much a divinity as her brothers and sisters, even if she acted with humility and quiet love rather than extravagantly displaying her power.

    Two men accompanied her, almost protectively. One was as tall as her, but strongly-built, wrapped in pale robes; a sling and pouch hung from his crude rope belt, and he had the stance and eyes of a warrior, and a weathered face. When Kalandor had arrived, he had been busy offering water from a clay basin to those cured of fever by Fayruz, his mask and hood lowered within the tent; he had, once Fayruz embraced her brother, risen and greeted him as well. He smiled little, but gave Kalandor a nod of approval and a quiet word of welcome, his voice low and steady.

    The second was tall and thin, built like their brother Llassar, and he had neither mask or hood, something that was – to the people of the rocklands – distinctly feminine. What made his refusal even more curious was that something had done a very credible job of ripping his face off, with deep gouges still visible, slashing across his temple in three long lines down to his jaw, cutting open his nose and lips. It's a wonder that he hadn't been blinded by whatever had attempted to destroy his face. His eyes were half-lidded in a permanent state of disdain or foolishness, the remnants of old wounds still visible on his lids, and his grin when Kalandor was introduced was a wide and disturbingly sharp thing. When he called Kalandor a man of his liking, grasping his shoulder tightly and giving it a shake, his voice was scratchy and hoarse, but exuberant nonetheless.

    But, it was obvious, both had a deep attachment to Fayruz. Had Kalandor been some assassin sent by the darkness that had destroyed the White City, the way the two acted hinted that they would not let him lay a hand on Fayruz until they were both dead. Beyond that, they were as different as night and day – the soldier was a man of few quiet words, while the scarred man would happily talk for him in his scratched voice; the soldier seemed measured and careful in his actions, while the scarred man was careless and gangly, as if trusting that fate would guide his hands; the soldier was quiet and sober, a man of deep emotions shown seldom, while the scarred man was easily provoked into laughter or a wide grin.

    It was quite obvious to see that, while Fayruz's people still struggled, and Fayruz herself was pale with constant exertion on behalf of her people, keeping them safe from sickness and injury in a hostile world, she was still quite happy here, and safe. Looking at her, it was quite easy to believe that she would do her best to remake the White City among mortalkind, and one could almost believe it when she smiled, and her golden eyes glowed for a moment.


    Kalandor would get along well with both men he decided, and agreed internally that Fayruz had found her place on The Disk.

    While Fayruz had beautiful golden eyes and skin that would look fair if not for the pallor bought by the exherstion, Kalandor, in the form he now called his own, was very much the opposite. He was not the handsome of pure testosterone, his hear was a dirty brown and the only care it apeared to have was fingers through it to remove knots, and his eyes were a dark brown, but nothing special, even with the few faint green specs in them. His skin was tanned, but not muscled, any muscles seeming to have a coat of fat hiding them. His face, unwrinkled and unmarred shone with youthful exerberance, while his eyes showed knowledge of someone who should have vast crevaces in their face, caused by wrinkles, as much a juxtaposition as the two that guarded Fayruz. His clothes were simple, a leather shirt with long leather pants, almost like armour, but not leather plates, and they were completely unardorned, with his boot bearing much dust. His staff, which now never left his side, looked every bit like a sheperds crock, with a thick spiraling head attached to the stout staff. He looked completely out of place in his clothes, and only an underlying sixth sense lent any feel he was a divine.

    Kalandor would follow with Fayruz, lending her what aid he could, but his skill being merely little better than traveller cures, for the what if trouble happens on the trail, he mostly watches, occasionally asking questions as to how she effects certain cures. Otherwise he converses with her guards, and waits while she works.
    My Homebrew Sig.

    Woo, I have a Quote.
    Quote Originally Posted by Moonwolf727 View Post
    To avoid harming the sanity of the DM I can no longer:

    * Cast flesh to stone on a annoying Druid
    ** Cast Rock to mud on a Druid statue
    *** Scoop mud into little ceramic pots
    **** Plant tree's in individual ceramic pots
    ***** Claim that I have helped them become one with nature
    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.

  8. - Top - End - #278
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    daelrog's Avatar

    Join Date
    Dec 2009
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Dark Sands

    Dasqe sat, trapped by the beast that sought to quench her light. Of the three guardians that she had created, one was lost, shattered and sent spiralling into the depths of the black sands, and a second was missing its arm. Even the third was chipped and scarred from head to toe.

    Dasque kept her eyes open, unblinking less she be caught unaware. She stared into the wind, looking at the way it twisted, and churned. She felt its essence, the element beyond the monster that controlled it. So long as the ancient, cruel thing controlled the wind about her, there was nothing she could do but be vigilant and wait, wait for some form of help to come, if any what left on the Disk, or to wait until she figured out how to grasp onto the formless, fey element herself.

    She did her best to be subtle about it, only playing around with a small gust here and there, all she could control at the moment. Bored, and annoyed, she began to question the unnamed horror.

    "Do you have a name?"

    "Can you speak?"

    "Are you simply playing with your prey, or does the light truly give you pause?"

  9. - Top - End - #279
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    hi-mi-tsu's Avatar

    Join Date
    Nov 2008
    Location
    CA
    Gender
    Female

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Avyra, Turn One

    "...Hm. That is...unexpected."

    Avyra gazes at The Boy and The Guardian, who she had held to while walking through the curtain of fire; she feels...different, though she has not been able to see herself. There is a serenity in her that is a far cry from the fear she had felt when first coming to the realization that she was dead; she is dead no longer, but neither is she truly living.

    Between two worlds is an accurate description, she believes. She can be killed, it is for certain, but...perhaps it would be more difficult to keep her dead. Death, after all, is nothing more than a cycle.

    "You told me I would be reborn!" The Guardian paces, agitated; he is smaller, now, more accessible in size.

    The fact does not seem to please him.

    Nor does it seem to please him that he is still a spiritual being; apparently, holding fast to the Goddess of Death brings a spirit into the real world, without being "reborn". Not in the traditional sense, at least.

    Avyra smiles, and her hands come up, pulling the face of The Guardian down to her.

    "Your name is Anshar. In guarding the Wheel, you sought purpose, a reclamation of the task set before you by my Father. In being reborn, I grant you a new purpose...guard those that walk the Path, Anshar. Protect the lost, the wanderers, who cannot clearly see their way. I cannot be there in all places, at all times...I need help. Help me."

    Her hands glow with power, and The Guardian stiffens; his eyes blaze, and his coat turns white, a beacon to shine in the dim greyness of the Quiet Lands.

    "...Thank you." The words are quiet. "I shall serve you, daughter of Baz'Auran. I go, at your command."

    Avyra sketches a doorway in the earth, that grows to a portal which is ever-shifting; Anshar steps through, and is gone.

    Spoiler
    Show
    1 Major Act: Create Exarch


    "What about me?" The Boy tugs at Avyra's hand, and the goddess smiles.

    "You? I think...you will stay with me, for a little while."

    Some Time Later

    Fayruz's song and a small, bright blue sprite of Faden's find Avyra at almost the same time; the goddess has been busy, to be sure. She and The Boy have been crafting some half-dozen figures, humanoid in shape but small like children; she is not as skilled an artist as her siblings, but a desire for recognizable figures has kept her at her work for long hours. It is only when she has them to her liking that she closes her eyes and reaches inside herself; with a gasping cry, she pulls forth six pieces of her own soul-matter, pressing them firmly into the mud shapes. It is painful, but they will be hers, unmistakably marked with her divine "signature"; as they begin to come alive, she sits heavily on the ground, and The Boy leans into her side.

    The Messengers (better name coming later)
    Spoiler
    Show
    1 Minor Act: Create The Messengers, six beings that are borne of Avyra's own soul. Able to travel through the Quiet Lands, these small, humanoid creatures are moderately clever and very dedicated, able to take and respond to messages with ease. To mortals, if they are visible at all, they appear as quiet children; gods will be able to see them for what they really are, beings of Avyara's soul-stuff, used to her purpose. Because time flows differently in the Quiet Lands, The Messengers are able to deliver and respond to divine communications swiftly, though after an extended travel they need time to rest.


    To Fayruz:
    Spoiler
    Show
    "My sweetest sister:
    It is a joy to hear that you have survived these trials and are strong in your own right. I am so glad that you have finally found a true foothold and are secure in yourself. I, too, have found my destiny...I promise, sister, I will come to visit you soon.

    Be well."


    To Faden:
    Spoiler
    Show
    "Faden! One of your charming little sprites has found me, and I am sending it back with this message. It is good to hear from you! I feel so isolated here, and receiving information from my siblings--finding those that still live--is always reassuring. Please, come visit me soon!"


    Sending the sprite on its way, and the Messenger to Fayruz, Avyra looks down at the other five.

    "Find my siblings...whichever ones you can. Look for Lossethir in particular, please? Nieve as well. But whichever you find, tell them that I am here...and that I wish them well."

    Another door is drawn, and The Messengers go; Avyra sighs, and lies back in the grass.

    I suppose I should set about building a home...it is a pity that none of my more...mechanically skilled siblings are here to assist me with it."

  10. - Top - End - #280
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    Demidos's Avatar

    Join Date
    Nov 2010
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Aramar The Disc: Part 4

    Glimpses and snatches of strange sights and sounds passed through his drooping mind. A room full of weapons which emitted constant clicks, a room with dozens of Blind-Folk praying, bowing to a shadowy figure in the corner, a large creature, but one he couldn’t quite make out…his vision faded in and out, in and out, like the tides of the ocean. At last his captors came to a great face, carved into the wall -- the snarling visage of a demon. Then the mouth opened and he was falling, falling into a great darkness.

    Aramar awoke and groaned. He felt as he had right after the Fall – every muscle and bone in his body was aching. He staggered to his feet. At least they had left him his weapons, puny as they were – his trusty knives were still secreted in their sheathes at his waist. He blinked and looked around, his eyes by now blazing the familiar orange light that signified that his darkvision was being used, and he saw…nothing. The darkness extended out as far as he could see on all sides of him. He looked up. He could see nothing – no stars, shining in the heavens above; no moon, guiding his path. In a way, he wasn’t surprised. Everything had been taken from him. Now his sky, the familiar light that he had watched and loved was gone. He slowly got to his feet and began to walk – what other option was there? He walked and walked, for what seemed an eternity. His legs gave out, and he slept several times, he knew not for how long – without the familiar lights of the sky, time was lost to him. The blackness stretched out, endless, eternal.

    Or did it? As he paused, he saw for a moment, deep in the distance, the faintest of lights. He quickened his pace. A path stretched out before him, one visible only faintly, even with his second sight. Making a split second decision, He turned to the right and began running, eager to escape whatever nightmare he had entered. If there was a path, there must be an exit. He smiled, excited at the prospect of reac—whatever though he had just had was cut off as he ran smack into a wall. He had been so distracted, and it had been so opaque that he had missed it, and ended up mashing his face into it. He looked up. Before him he could just make out a massive vertical face of rock. But it sloped inwards, almost as if…it was a cave. His jaw opened as he realized the full scope of the cave he was in – it must be a dozen, no, dozens of miles across. He looked about him, searching for something, anything that would allow him to escape. He saw nothing, except a small lip of stone, far above. He imagined that this must be what the path had led to, but there was no way up. It was a sheer wall. No way up. Aramar punched the wall in anger, the rough stone drawing blood. The pain helped him focus. The path must lead somewhere else. And he would get there.
    But first, seeing his golden blood gave him an idea. The sigils he had learned in his time among the Nightborn used woven reeds to accomplish their deflections of vision and sound, but he himself had drawn sigils in the air out of pure essence, when he had still been in the White City. He didn’t have that power any more, he knew, but with godly blood…

    It took him several minutes to draw the arcane symbols on his chest with his own blood, and several more to verify their accuracy – though the godly blood glowed in his second sight, he was in poor condition and his mind felt sluggish. The symbols faded into his skin, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Then he turned, and began jogging back down the way he had come – he would escape this prison, he promised himself, and return to the life-sustaining outdoors.
    Avatar by Sgt. Pepper
    Former Avatars by
    Spoiler
    Show
    MethosH

    My Characters:
    Flutter: Level 20 Tristalt

    My Homebrew:
    WIP
    The Fortunar Base Class

    Completed Classes
    The Grandmaster : A master of animated stattuettes and tactical magic. High tier 3.

    The Hidden Word: An infiltrator with a wide range of abilities that works best in small teams. Tier 2-3

    Web-Spinner: A martial class based around using webs. Mid T3.


  11. - Top - End - #281
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Gengy's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2005

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Jongo looked upon Green Morningstar, and smiled. Certainly, there was a crew here, to do the nominal work.

    But Jongo knew - just knew - it wasn't needed.

    Green Morningstar was alive. It breathed with the wind. It laughed with the tide. And it was the only ship of it's kind.

    Looking over at her brother and niece, Jongo grinned.

    "So. Can I drive?"

    "No!"
    "No!"

    "Awwwwwww.... No one ever lets me have any fun." Jongo pouted, but quickly recovered.

    Closing his eyes, Jongo looked in on her mindscape.

    The Green Morningstar flared a bright green glow of life, just like it's name. No one else may understand, as there really was not a speck of green found anywhere on the Living Ship, but the soul of the thing, it's essence, was a brilliant green.

    There was so many possibilities for the Ship that it was blotting out any other sight. Jongo was quiet for several minutes, just closing down his senses of the ship. Finally, slowly, the green feeling was manageable, and Jongo saw past it.

    The easy feeling of Death was to the south west, very close as far as the Green Morningstar was concerned. Less than a day or two.

    The chilly feeling of Winter radiated cold from very far to the north west.

    The grand feeling of Honor was directly north perhaps four days or so.

    But there were a great deal of lights to the south west, over a week or more's travel. What Jongo thought might be Fayruz was together with what could be Kalandor. And the great bright feeling of pure Light was with the void that seemed to be rejecting the Chaos. What felt like pure Magic - and was probably Faden - was closer, but...

    No. What was needed now for Jongo's plans was a surety of Protection. Two days travel, maybe.

    "Helm! We head north, and a bit west. Hard to port, because I need a drink! Easy to starboard, because all stars should be welcome on this ship." Jongo pointed to where he felt they should go. Then realized... there were two captains of this ship.

    Turning towards the feeling of Haramhold, Jongo fell silent. This was the first time taking in his brother's essence. It was... well-constructed. Solid. It could be shaken, parts of it could be broken, but it would always - always - rebuild. Perhaps a bit different, but it would remain strong.

    Jongo wouldn't forget that easily. She opened her eyes, green and grey, and stared at Haramhold. "Can you not feel them? Can you not feel where we should go next, who we should meet? I think that's Carolinus just a little ways away, north. He deserves to see a friendly face. What do you think, Butterfly?"
    Last edited by Gengy; 2012-02-29 at 02:24 AM.
    Spoiler
    Show
    "Fear the Gerbils, lads! For they will destroy you!" ~ DOOM

    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!
    ~avatar by myself

  12. - Top - End - #282
    Halfling in the Playground
     
    SamuraiGuy

    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    Seoul
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Brandis' Ascension
    Part 5: The Smiler's Return and A Promise Kept


    The ancient town square of Hastings was abuzz as people continued to filter in. The "Dance of the Night Stalker" was retold again in song, and turns were taken introducing the accompanying steps to newcomers. For the first time in ages the ancient place was alight and full. And as the people danced and laughed they found it was a wondrous place - hardly the den of shadows and evil recounted to them through the years. No indeed! The buildings were vibrant, with colors that seemed to come alive as the night wore on. Grand murals depicted the celebrations and feasts of yore, some of the figures seeming to move with the crowd in time to the music.

    In the central pavilion, Brandis and Norlean were resplendent in the very finest the city's tailors could provide. Perhaps only Brandis could make the greens, golds, and purples seem regal, but soon all in the quarter wore swaths of the very same to share in his festive nature. Norlean had barely been convinced to attend a dress fitting. Surely there were better things to do? But somehow Brandis had convinced her this was necessary. Seeing his planned attire, she thought to be rebellious by demanding nothing but black. And Gods be damned if he hadn't told her it was simply perfect for a lady to have at least one black dress. The crowd followed their steps, and then in pockets began to create new ones. New verses were added to old. Most popular seemed to be "Darkness Falls."

    As the latter reached the pavilion, Brandis sang along but afterwards raised his hand. Completely in tune with him, the entire square went quiet.

    "Good people of Hastings! It fills my heart with joy we are gathered together! To see the light in your hearts push back the shadows of this ancient place. Never lose that! To the good spirits of your people, and each generation to come!" He raised his glass, and an entire city returned the gesture.

    His voice lowered, slightly more somber and serious even if the smile and kind eyes remained. "But the Serpent remains. Darkness has not fallen yet. It is because of this I call on you - each and every soul of this blessed city - to join me in battle against the shadow that will try to surround you. I ask to see the best amongst you. Those brave souls willing to brave the black swamp and bring this same freedom to their neighbors."

    Brandis' face beamed to see the first amongst many: Thibodeaux, Russell, Aultman, and Eustace. The men whose minds had been saved from Iscaripaka after the midnight attack so many nights ago. "My dear and trusted friends. I charge you with organizing these fine volunteers. You are to spread to the farthest corners of this marshland. Your task is simple - by the new moon, every city, village, and hut is to share what you have learned tonight."

    Earnest and enthusiastic they pledged their agreement. The Smiler embraced them, wishing them thanks and safe travels. Norlean waited until the pleasantries were done before sharing her observation. "Truly? You expect them to traverse the entirety of this land in less than a fortnight?"

    "Why of course I do! Haven't you ever heard? Time flies when you're having fun!"

    Part of her wanted to argue with his ridiculous logic - or lack thereof - but when she saw the spring in their step when they exited with a song on their lips, she decided to simply let it go.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Their finery had been left behind when Brandis and Norlean returned to Kurth. The journey back was no less harsh, but made a thousand fold easier for the sense of hope shared wordlessly between them. However the whispering breeze of the black fetid waters might warn of its anger, they knew they could face whatever came. The night stalker had not returned, and the huntress was more than capable to face simple beasts of darkness risen from the murk.

    Somehow the village seemed even more lifeless, more gray than when they had left. Iscaripaka had not given false threats about the blight. Gaunt faces, and cold dead eyes were what met them. Even the tall and powerful frame of Norlean's father was diminished. Brandis closed his eyes and lowered his head when he saw the freshly dug mounds of earth.

    He was still not welcome amongst their people, and he did not try to charm his way into their midst. While his companion rejoined her family, he strode to the rising of Lafayette's grave. Kneeling beside it he traced his finger around the gray slate chip that marked the resting place, around the symbol of what had once been his home.

    "You will have better, sweet child."

    For day and night on end he remained kneeling at the graveside in prayer to Baz'Auran. For the wisdom to understand his role, the serenity to accept it, and the courage to face it.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Dusk approached on the night of the new moon. The whispering of the swamp had grown more and more fervent and violent as the apex of shadow approached. As the last slivers of light slipped into the horizon, Brandis removed Lossethir's chip. Delicately he removed the leaf he had received from Otrygg in the strange chamber of the Stump. Carefully he planted its stem into the soft earth, then arose.

    "Iscaripaka! You have remained hidden long enough! I have heard only whispers of your anger. Surely you must have more to say over the loss of your favored servant. Surely it must anger you to know your name is losing its power. Ah, but perhaps you are afraid. Afraid of the son of Baz'Auran! Afraid to have your power tested!"

    In the new moon, all was black but something shimmered, quaked with anger. Brandis spread his arms wide.

    "Face me Serpent! I call upon you to challenge me in the very heart of darkness. To let you take full form against me! Face me! Or begone with your cowardice!"

    There was no surprise when Brandis felt his body wracked with pain. Great tendrils wrapped about him, pulling his joints in every direction. As his bones began to groan and his ribs snapped loudly from the pressure, the small children of Iscaripaka burrowed themselves deep within his flesh. Blood flowed down his face like crimson tears as his eyes were gouged from their sockets.

    "Do you still mock me child? Your false bravado rings hollow! The sheer audacity! That you would think to fight me empty handed! In my domain!" Something sharp and cold gouged into Brandis' shoulder. Soon strips of flesh were flayed away in casual ease. "You will die slowly. Painfully. I will hear you despair once more. And in the end you will denounce your father, begging for mercy."

    Coughing weakly, he rasped, "Challenge . . . not fight . . ." Defiantly he raised his face to the hot, rancid breath of the Serpent's maw. As his vitality dripped to the gravesight below, he smiled, and mustered what little laughter he could force out.

    The first notes were faint. Distant. From the very shores of the eastern ocean. Once voice became two. Two became ten. Soon, ten became a thousand.

    Brandis did not need his eyes to know Iscaripaka found herself surrounded by light. He could feel the tendrils digging into him, tensing with uncertainty.

    His heart beat in time with the footsteps that danced around their fires. The voice of a nation, over a thousand souls strong surged through him. As the music coursed through his flesh it began to reknit. The Serpent's children feasting upon him dissipated, their screeching death cries drowned out by the massive ritual.

    "It was never my place to fight you. I am as Baz'Auran made me. My challenge is for the hearts of these people. And you have failed."

    Slowly his vision returned, but vision alone was not enough to grasp the form of Iscaripaka. She was the very essence of the black marsh, a horrid and immeasurable thing. She was ancient, and even surrounded by light she was powerful.

    "An amusing trick. And what will they do when you are dead? How long before they are too afraid to utter your name?" Though diminished, the Serpent lifted Brandis and then thrust him violently to the ground. The undulating tentacles of her underbelly, bristling with her small children that shied away from the light, began once more to grasp at him and rend. "Poor, poor child. How did you think this would end?"

    It was Norlean who lit the final fire. Began the final chorus. The people of Kurth found it alien to hear music from her lips. To see the huntress grab her father's hand and drag him to dance beside the fire. As is so often the case, the youngest were the first to try something new. They joined the Fosters by the fire, clumsily at first. But the song came easy, as did the steps. Despite themselves, even the sullen eyed people of Kurth joined their children in the celebration.

    Straining against the superior might of his opponent, Brandis outstretched his right hand, as if awaiting something.

    "Know that your doom takes root in a single act of kindness from this boy. That even before I entered your domain, hope remained within these people."

    Bathed in light, the leaf of the Skrayling Tree twisted and grew at the head of Lafayette's final resting place. Slowly at first, but soon as large as a sapling - budding new leaves and stretching out into the sky. And the first leaf continued to twist and shift until it had taken a new form. A simple wooden chalice of golden bark from the world tree, filled with its nectar.

    The Skrayling Chalice found itself into Brandis' hands, and he was lifted to his feet by the strength of the tree behind him.

    "The Spirit of Man is a vast and endless thing. With every verse, every step, every drink these people share they are connected."

    He thrust the chalice to the Serpent's maw.

    "Do you wish to dine on their hope? Then know that in their celebration they replenish one another. DRINK!" The nectar poured endessly down Iscaripaka's throat with a sizzling hiss. "You are a vile and petty creature. Drown upon your own gluttonous appetite and despair!"

    And it was true. She was a thing of greed and voracious appetite. Even as it dissolved the Serpent from within she yearned for more. But it was like trying to swallow the ocean whole. With each gulp Iscaripaka shrank and shrank, while the Skrayling Tree grew ever taller. Soon she fit within the palm of Brandis' hand, then was naught but a dissipating waft of smoke.

    Circling high above, the sprite saw a wondrous thing. A thousand points of light swirled across the swamplands and gathered together whilst an entire people climaxed their song in perfect harmony. The Skrayling Tree rose higher and higher, and the light gathered to it. Soon its branches extended over the entire realm beneath. And when it was done, fluorescent seeds fell to the earth, making the marshland whole and verdant once more.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Brandis ached to the very fiber of his being as he sat at the base of the great trunk. Gingerly, he lifted the chalice. "To you Lafayette. For your kindness."

    He was unsure how long he remained there, lost in thought. He hardly noticed when Norlean came beside him.

    "Are you just going to sit here all night and make a girl dance by herself?"

    Brandis couldn't have been happier as he took her hand.

    "Why Norlean, I thought you'd never ask!"
    Last edited by KiCowboy; 2012-02-29 at 03:40 AM.

  13. - Top - End - #283
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Raz_Fox's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Location
    Imladris
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Quote Originally Posted by Erik Vale View Post
    Spoiler
    Show
    Kalandor would get along well with both men he decided, and agreed internally that Fayruz had found her place on The Disk.

    While Fayruz had beautiful golden eyes and skin that would look fair if not for the pallor bought by the exherstion, Kalandor, in the form he now called his own, was very much the opposite. He was not the handsome of pure testosterone, his hear was a dirty brown and the only care it apeared to have was fingers through it to remove knots, and his eyes were a dark brown, but nothing special, even with the few faint green specs in them. His skin was tanned, but not muscled, any muscles seeming to have a coat of fat hiding them. His face, unwrinkled and unmarred shone with youthful exerberance, while his eyes showed knowledge of someone who should have vast crevaces in their face, caused by wrinkles, as much a juxtaposition as the two that guarded Fayruz. His clothes were simple, a leather shirt with long leather pants, almost like armour, but not leather plates, and they were completely unardorned, with his boot bearing much dust. His staff, which now never left his side, looked every bit like a sheperds crock, with a thick spiraling head attached to the stout staff. He looked completely out of place in his clothes, and only an underlying sixth sense lent any feel he was a divine.

    Kalandor would follow with Fayruz, lending her what aid he could, but his skill being merely little better than traveller cures, for the what if trouble happens on the trail, he mostly watches, occasionally asking questions as to how she effects certain cures. Otherwise he converses with her guards, and waits while she works.
    Dinner at the Olm was something of a disappointment, it must be admitted. Although there was plenty to drink - something very heady procured from the juice of a cactus which the scarred man offered to Kalandor, as well as pure, pleasantly-cold water which Fayruz insisted on drinking - there simply was not much to eat. Most of it was a meal of dried desert roots, with a few desert quail roasted in their own juices offered up for Fayruz and her brother.

    The people - who called themselves the Fayheran, a mark of their devotion to Fayruz - were beginning to grow lean, that much was certain. The weather was unseasonably hot, even for the desert, and dry. While there was enough for them all to drink, courtesy of the great river at their doorstep, the plants they scavenged from had begun to wither and die, and the beasts of the land were staying farther and farther away from hunting parties. Quiet, fleeting looks shared between Fayruz and the soldier betrayed that this was something that weighed heavily on her heart - even with half of their number headed out to reclaim the rocklands in the name of Fayruz and a united people, Fayruz could not conjure up enough food to feed the rest.

    But Fayruz did her best to make her brother feel welcome; she invited musicians and dancers from her tribe to come up and perform for Kalandor, and they were all quite talented indeed! She offered, as well, to play her harp for her brother after they finished eating, to remind them both of the White City and what they must continually strive for. But they were doubly interrupted as the last of the quail was finished. The first was a bright beacon of light shining off far to the east, too bright to be any star. Fayruz turned her head to stare at it, and frowned. "A dragon?" she asked herself, softly. "Or something stranger... or a sibling?"

    The scarred man, meanwhile, turned his head, then leaped up with a cry and pulled a child into the circle. The soldier started up, clenching his fists. "What are you playing at, Gamesha?" he cried.

    "This child," the scarred man replied, "Ain't one of us. And he smells like rotting bodies." The scarred man leaned in, and breathed in deeply, and nodded to himself, licking his lips. "Like the ruttin dead."

    Fayruz rose, making a gesture to place the child down, which the scarred man did. The scarred man then sat down next to Kalandor, his body loose and still, but his eyes more intent than they normally were. Fayruz, meanwhile, came down to one knee before the child. "I'm sorry," she said, softly. "Gamesha doesn't mean to hurt anyone, not any more. I know he's scary, but he's not going to hurt you... even if you are made of clay."

    "My sweetest sister," the child replied, in Avyra's soft voice. And now Fayruz looked more deeply, and saw a spark deep within that clay child, one that smelled like the bodies of the slain at Dol Mazzah, that seemed as soft and elusive as silk, and she knew that Avyra was alive, and she began to cry with joy as the child continued.

    "It is a joy to hear that you have survived these trials and are strong in your own right. I am so glad that you have finally found a true foothold and are secure in yourself. I, too, have found my destiny...I promise, sister, I will come to visit you soon. Be well."

    The clay child fell silent, and Fayruz looked very seriously at it, blinking back tears. "Can you take a message to my sister?" The clay child nodded, and Fayruz said, "Tell my wonderful older sister that I am protected here, and that I know that Haramhold and Kalandor and Faden are all alive and well." As the child nodded, and vanished into the night, Fayruz drew herself up and said to Kalandor, smiling tearfully, "Avyra is alive!"
    -build that wall and build it strong-
    Kasanip - best artist; Rarity - best smile; Thanqol - good Question
    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dervag View Post
    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  14. - Top - End - #284
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    BladeofObliviom's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2011

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Part 2: Deja Vu
    Roselia did not recieve the same comforts as her other fallen bretheren. Like Lossethir, she arrived in a frozen wasteland. Unlike Lossethir, she was saved only by the fact that the spirit had been courteous enough to deposit her in a cave, where she would not simply die to frostbite and the creatures skittering upon the ice. Even then, things seemed grim for the beloved daughter of the White City: the speed of the Spirit of Haste had allowed her to escape the horror that had attacked her father, an unfortunate concussion along the way had left her unconscious.
    Now, however, she awoke. A pair of blue eyes flickered open to an unfamiliar ceiling, lit only by the viridian luminescence of the mossy coating upon the walls, and the muted sound of a gasp escaped into the chilling underground air. She was alone. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. Father couldn't watch over her here, and most of her siblings were far away - NO!
    Something was very wrong here. This image, it seemed familiar, if barely. Like a construct of her imagination, or a nightmare of her own consciousness.
    She reached outward with one hand, and felt the ground. It seemed real, but there was definitely something... ...off about it. It seemed too light and soft, like it very well might give way if one pushed hard enough. In fact, it was not unlike that creation of Rumel's. What did he call it, anyway? Steerofoam? Spymalone? Styroclone? Something like that, anyway. The point is, it felt wrong. All of this felt wrong. What was true? What was illusion? Why the Jongo did Roselia feel so lightheaded?
    No, she couldn't fall into unconsciousness now! She struggled on the edge of succumbing to that blissful, endless sleep, finally managing to lift her body from the ground once again. Looking once again at her surroundings with full wakefulness, Roselia could see the sheer falseness now. What veil must have been upon her mind to not see it the first time through? Even now, it might have fooled a lesser mind, but she had spent her life creating illusions: If anyone was qualified to see through an illusion, it was her.
    In all honesty, this fact made the illusion even more terrifying: She could sense how wrong this cave was, but she couldn't see what lies behind it. It was a feeling somewhat like being in a white box from birth, knowing that there is a world outside, but not what that world looks like. It's an altogether terrible feeling, knowing that there's something vital being hidden from you, and that you are powerless to stop it.
    Roselia, like any proper godling, quickly resolved that she needed to escape from this horrid place. Sitting down again and thinking, she spread her current belongings out. Not much, really: A hairbrush, a small mirror (she wasn't especially vain, but it never hurts to be able to check one's appearance at a banquet), and a butterknife that she continued to hold onto even as the Spirit of Haste made off with her. She sighed, and spoke aloud for the first time since waking up.

    "Nothing useful. Of course."

    Glancing forward, she spotted something else that she hadn't the first time. Upon the glowing moss, there was a thin white crack: a hole in the illusion that trapped her. Hopeful again, she took her butterknife and thrust it into the space, then attempted to tear the hole wider. It complied, and the entire section of the wall tore like a sheet of paper. It was easy. Too easy, really. Nothing, however, could have prepared Roselia for what waited on the other side of the wall.
    Spoiler
    Show


    Normal Avatar by Thormag!

  15. - Top - End - #285
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    shorewood's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jul 2009
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Jongo wouldn't forget that easily. She opened her eyes, green and grey, and stared at Haramhold. "Can you not feel them? Can you not feel where we should go next, who we should meet? I think that's Carolinus just a little ways away, north. He deserves to see a friendly face. What do you think, Butterfly?"
    Haramhold looked into the empty air, sending his senses far and wide. Yes he sensed a powerful divine sparks where Jongo had indicated. "I think that is as good an idea as any."

    As Salus disappeared over the horizon Haramhold found himself leaning over the railing staring into the distance lost in thought. This was the first time he had mingled his essence with Jongo's. It was deep and wide, like an ocean. Haramhold felt small in comparison to the eldest.

    Amanda was amazed at how well the ship flew. How it soared through the air, she spent the first few hours at the control crystal. A clear orb two feet in diameter with green sparks of energy arcing within. She sent the ship diving and banking with the wind, becoming accustomed to how the ship handled and her limitations. Much to Jongo's delight.

    When darkness overtook the land Haramhold yawned and descended below deck to sleep. Arriving in his room his PINK room Haramhold snorted with annoyance, what a gaudy color. Placing a hand on the wooden walls he willed the wood to turn a more pleasing shade of brown. With that done, he settled into his hammock and quickly drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with the look of joy on Amanda's face as she steered the ship.

    In the morning Haramhold awoke to his room, his PINK room and if at all possible it had turned an even brighter shade than before. Sighing the god quickly changed into some clean cloths and opened his door. It did not lead to the hallway adjoining the stairs leading top side as it had the previous night. It instead connected directly to a storage room filled with crates.

    Closing the door Haramhold counted to ten and opened it again. This time it lead to the empty mess hall. "I'm sorry for changing the color of the walls Green MorningStar. I need to get topside." Closing the door the second time Haramhold re opened it to find that it lead to the armory, where a half a dozen swords, spears and bows hung on the walls. "Come on! I said I was sorry what more do..." Haramhold was cut off by a shrill scream "Amanda" he whispered. Stepping into the armory Haramhold hastily grabs a spear spinning around to the exit in one smooth motion and when the god opened the door for the fourth time it lead directly to the stairs.

    Running up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him Haramhold vaulted onto the deck. A four winged monstrosity stood between Amanda and the control crystal its long sharp beak fending off the Exarch's attempts to steer the ship away from the rest of the incoming flock.

    Charging ahead Haramhold catches the creature off guard slamming his spear into its flank. The monster's scream was as loud and shrill as an eagle's but as deep and menacing as a lions. It tried to knock Haramhold away with a strike of its wings but to no avail, the god's charge would not be halted so easily. Pushing forward Haramhold grunts and with a mighty heave throws the beast off the ship, watching as it plummeted to the earth. Only to catch itself and sluggishly glide away, wounded but alive.

    By this time Amanda had placed her hands on the control crystal, the green arcs blazing with intensity but to no avail. The flock was already to close to escape and they were hungry.

    *edit spellcheck
    Last edited by shorewood; 2012-02-29 at 12:18 PM.
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  16. - Top - End - #286
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Gengy's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2005

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Moment's Ago, aboard the Green Morningstar

    Up in the crow's next, Jongo let the wind whip in his face, and the breeze flow through her hair.

    Flying.

    Was.

    Amazing.

    True, too be honest, Jongo had been flying before. But never like this. Never on a craft that was cutting through the air like a sword through creampuffs.

    Creampuffs. Blast. Now Jongo missed Llassar.

    A little sprite like fairy darted into the crow's nest, a dark shade of silver dust floating around it. It landed near Jongo, and the Everchanging got a closer look at it. It wasn't dust. It was magic.

    Another of Faden's messengers? Like before, the thought of Faden's name was enough. The sprite looked over at Jongo, and suddenly Jongo's head was full of information.

    Faden was going to be travelling towards Fayruz. On... some type of bird, if he could? That sounded fun.

    Faden always did have the most fun, after me, of course. Jongo smirked, and closed his eyes.

    "Quack! Tell Duckie that Haramhold and I are on a ship that Butterfly made, and I helped! We're close to what we think may be Carolinus, so we're going to visit and find out." Jongo heard the bell like tinkle, as the silvery thing shot off in the distance. Jongo sat there, in the crow's nest, eyes closed, just enjoying the breeze.

    Then something changed.

    Amanda screamed.

    Opening her eyes, Jongo saw he was no longer in the crow's nest, but on the bow of the ship.

    To the right, and closing fast, were a large flock of strange monstrosities. Each had four brown leathery wings, long wicked beaks, and short stumpy legs. They were like some sick twisted giant bat, from a horrible nightmare.

    Nightmare.

    "Chaos Beasts." Jongo changed form, first growing as big as she could, which wasn't all that large, but still almost twice the size as one of these... these...

    ...things.

    Whatever they were.

    Green Morningstar began to shake for whatever reason, like someone at the helm was losing control. Jongo didn't have much time.

    The Band of Chaos began to sing out, as Jongo altered his form. Oddly, it was in key, and sounded strong and powerful.

    Jongo grew wings, and changed into a more perfect mimicry of what they were seeing now. Where the Beasts were all leathery and stretched skin, Jongo's wings were white and feathery, with brown fur sprouting along Jongo's arms. Where the Beasts had long, sharp, dangerous looking beaks, Jongo grew a short, proud eagle's hook of a beak. Their short stubby claws on their almost non-existent legs were a pale comparison to the powerful looking talons on each of Jongo's new fingers and toes.

    Another scream. This one like the sound of a lion's roar, if it was as ear piercing as a hawk's cry. Jongo didn't even bother to turn. She could feel Haramhold's stolid form on deck, and the Living Ship righted itself.

    Growing a golden mane around his neck, Jongo sprang from the bow of the ship, and plunged into the thick mess of Beasts. The Band of Chaos was an unmovable circlet upon Jongo's new proud bird-like head.

    She could hear their Chaos reacting to the presence of the Band and Jongo's own power. It hungered, like a small pinprick from the Abyss. It wanted something. The Beasts wanted something.

    So Jongo gave it to them.

    "I am Jongo, Master and/or Mistress of Chaos! You will heed my call, and leave this place!" Crying out with a powerful voice that surely reached those on board Green Morningstar, Jongo felt resplendent, and was certain that this could work.

    It should work. It would work.

    The Beasts were stunned, flapping in place, as they all stared curiously at the large regal version of themselves in their midst.

    And then each one uttered their lion-shriek, and charged straight at Jongo.

    It, apparently, didn't work.

    Note to self. Do not get surrounded by Chaos Beasts. The Band of Chaos laughed, as Jongo went into a dive, and the whole wave of... things... followed, one after another, until they were a spiral cone traveling downwards with one wicked purpose.

    Sadly, that purpose was likely counter productive to Jongo's continued existence, so he worked hard to stay ahead of them.

    Jongo's form seemed to be helping to keep the lead, but leveling out the dive to dodge the closest... thing, Jongo could see that the sky was darkened by countless Beasts, their tiny spark of Chaos reacting very badly to Jongo's own spark.

    Flapping furiously, Jongo darted towards the Living Ship, and yelled in between wingstorkes, "Butterfly! Amanda-girl! I do believe...

    I'm going...

    to need...

    a little...

    HELP!"
    Last edited by Gengy; 2012-02-29 at 01:02 PM.
    Spoiler
    Show
    "Fear the Gerbils, lads! For they will destroy you!" ~ DOOM

    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!
    ~avatar by myself

  17. - Top - End - #287
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    shorewood's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jul 2009
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Flapping furiously, Jongo darted towards the Living Ship, and yelled, "Butterfly! Amanda-girl! I do believe... I'm going to need HELP!"
    "Amanda, maneuver the ship high and starboard at my signal!" Haramhold bellowed as he raced to the side of the ship Jongo was flying toward.

    Releasing the crystal of inner light from the golden cage around his neck Haramhold gathers his will into the crystal. Holding back its light Haramhold waited.

    Jongo furiously flapped hir wings and the moment the god shot past hir brother, Haramhold shouted "NOW!" as he released all of the pent up energy in the crystal. Its bright light outshining the sun.

    The chaos beasts shrieked in terror suddenly too blind to see the ship. The first several beats slammed against the hull with a sickening crunch before plummeting to the earth. The rest managed to frantically balk their momentum scattering for a moment. But they quickly regathered and were now weary of their prey spreading themselves out so as to avoid such another mistake.

    Haramhold returned the crystal of inner light to its cage and readied his spear "Any ideas?"
    Sometimes it is useful to know how large your zero is. ~Author Unknown

  18. - Top - End - #288
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    TheDarkDM's Avatar

    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    Los Angeles
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Confrontation aboard Green Morningstar

    As Green Morningstar leveled off, the flock of Chaos Beasts looped around, passing behind a cloudbank in a shadowed flash before howling towards the flying ship in a unified mass. For a moment, it seemed as though they intended to shatter the divinely wrought hull with the simple mass of their bodies, but as Haramhold and Jongo readied themselves for a dire battle a flash of azure cut through the approaching horde. The Beasts of Chaos scattered, breaking into smaller flocks circling their former location. Another flash of brilliant blue, and one of the smaller flocks vanished outright. Panicked now, the beasts scattered in a frenzy of flapping wings, speeding away from their erstwhile prey in terror.

    Jongo, Amanda, and Haramhold had but a moment to consider their sudden deliverance before a groan came from the stern. Turning, they heard Amanda gasp as a sinuous monstrosity coiled around the end of the ship. It was sixty feet long, at least, its body coated in sapphire scales that glinted in the sunlight. Four thin legs emerged from what they assumed must be its main body, tipped by wicked black talons. It had no wings - indeed the only sign of what could allow flight were a pair of rippling fins that ran the length of its body from its forelegs down the end of its tail, the membrane atop it glistening silvery-blue. For a moment, the beast regarded them from on high with blazing green eyes, before lowering its draconic head to their eye level. They could see its head crowned by a trio of long, flat horns that swept back from the head to embrace the open air. Releasing a puff of misty breath that smelled of salt and blood, the dragon spoke through a maw of black, needled teeth.

    "Now aren't you a strange sight in the morning air. What do you make of them, brother?"

    Another creak came from behind Green Morningstar's crew, and a glance behind them revealed another of the blue dragons coiled about the mast.

    "Hard to tell, brother. This one smells of eternity, but the other two are far too rough and crude to be aught but up-jumped mortals."


    "Hrm, perhaps. Tell us, little ones, who are you to fly so high in such an...orange contraption?"

    Dark Sands

    As if in response to Dasque's question, the sandy claws withdrew their attack, returning to their circling position. Despite the brief respite, Dasque's guard never wavered, so when the black sand shot forward again she was prepared. Yet this attack was not aimed at her - rather, the sand exploded around her conjured guardians. The darkness would have found little purchase had the guardians been whole, yet in their damaged state their smooth exteriors were run through with cracks. Cracks which the black sand rushed to fill. In a flash, the guardians were made whole again, damaged stone and crippled limbs replaced by the sand. Shuddering in protest against the corruption, the guardians moved towards Dasque, endeavoring to grapple her into submission, heedless now of her aura of light.

    As she struggled to overcome her own guardians, the wall of sand before Dasque parted, opening into a fanged maw of darkness. The whistling of the sands changed pitch, until they resembled nothing more than a low, rumbling laugh. From the center of the gaping maw, a thick stream of black sand emerged like a prehensile tongue, angling itself towards Dasque's face. There seemed to be no escape, until the wall of sand shuddered at the sound of a thunderclap, and the walls around Dasque were swept away by the pure white sand of the desert. Looking down from her perch, she saw another humanoid figure to the north that could only be one of her divine kin. Below, the black sandstorm wrestled with the storm that had interrupted its capture of Dasque, eventually subduing the mundane sands and rearing up before the two divinities with a roar.
    Last edited by TheDarkDM; 2012-02-29 at 05:12 PM.

    I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
    The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
    I was old in those epochs uncounted
    When I, and I only, was vile;

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by apocalypsePast2 View Post
    ...one could possibly refer to you guys' elaborate dance of allies-to-enemies-to-suicide-of-the-universe as some sort of weird art form.

    If one were on drugs.
    Quote Originally Posted by VonDoom View Post
    Behold, the mighty slayer of strangely coloured mutant equines! The thwarter of forum woes! The! Dark! DM!

  19. - Top - End - #289
    Troll in the Playground
    Join Date
    Mar 2011
    Location
    Australia

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by Raz_Fox View Post
    Dinner at the Olm was something of a disappointment, it must be admitted. Although there was plenty to drink - something very heady procured from the juice of a cactus which the scarred man offered to Kalandor, as well as pure, pleasantly-cold water which Fayruz insisted on drinking - there simply was not much to eat. Most of it was a meal of dried desert roots, with a few desert quail roasted in their own juices offered up for Fayruz and her brother.

    The people - who called themselves the Fayheran, a mark of their devotion to Fayruz - were beginning to grow lean, that much was certain. The weather was unseasonably hot, even for the desert, and dry. While there was enough for them all to drink, courtesy of the great river at their doorstep, the plants they scavenged from had begun to wither and die, and the beasts of the land were staying farther and farther away from hunting parties. Quiet, fleeting looks shared between Fayruz and the soldier betrayed that this was something that weighed heavily on her heart - even with half of their number headed out to reclaim the rocklands in the name of Fayruz and a united people, Fayruz could not conjure up enough food to feed the rest.

    But Fayruz did her best to make her brother feel welcome; she invited musicians and dancers from her tribe to come up and perform for Kalandor, and they were all quite talented indeed! She offered, as well, to play her harp for her brother after they finished eating, to remind them both of the White City and what they must continually strive for. But they were doubly interrupted as the last of the quail was finished. The first was a bright beacon of light shining off far to the east, too bright to be any star. Fayruz turned her head to stare at it, and frowned. "A dragon?" she asked herself, softly. "Or something stranger... or a sibling?"

    The scarred man, meanwhile, turned his head, then leaped up with a cry and pulled a child into the circle. The soldier started up, clenching his fists. "What are you playing at, Gamesha?" he cried.

    "This child," the scarred man replied, "Ain't one of us. And he smells like rotting bodies." The scarred man leaned in, and breathed in deeply, and nodded to himself, licking his lips. "Like the ruttin dead."

    Fayruz rose, making a gesture to place the child down, which the scarred man did. The scarred man then sat down next to Kalandor, his body loose and still, but his eyes more intent than they normally were. Fayruz, meanwhile, came down to one knee before the child. "I'm sorry," she said, softly. "Gamesha doesn't mean to hurt anyone, not any more. I know he's scary, but he's not going to hurt you... even if you are made of clay."

    "My sweetest sister," the child replied, in Avyra's soft voice. And now Fayruz looked more deeply, and saw a spark deep within that clay child, one that smelled like the bodies of the slain at Dol Mazzah, that seemed as soft and elusive as silk, and she knew that Avyra was alive, and she began to cry with joy as the child continued.

    "It is a joy to hear that you have survived these trials and are strong in your own right. I am so glad that you have finally found a true foothold and are secure in yourself. I, too, have found my destiny...I promise, sister, I will come to visit you soon. Be well."

    The clay child fell silent, and Fayruz looked very seriously at it, blinking back tears. "Can you take a message to my sister?" The clay child nodded, and Fayruz said, "Tell my wonderful older sister that I am protected here, and that I know that Haramhold and Kalandor and Faden are all alive and well." As the child nodded, and vanished into the night, Fayruz drew herself up and said to Kalandor, smiling tearfully, "Avyra is alive!"


    Kalandor enjoyed the meal immensely. It may not have been large, and I't may not have been good in comparison to divine quisine, but having lived as various insects for the last several days, anything that isn't raw and bleeding or tough and dry is a plesure, for which he offers his complements and his thanks. He knew, though to a lesser extent, the curse that is living in an arid land.
    As for the musicians and dancers, it was true they where great, and Kalandor complemented them as such, and offered to show them a tune of his own devising, a simple song which he acompanies with his staff, which somehow forms a hollow with a single string in front of it, which changes in length, acting as a lute, his voice taking many changes, and, once where the wolf is refferenced, his very throat seems to shift, and he manages to replicate with perfection the wolfs longing howl, which lingered in the air as only the haunting wolfsong can. When Fayruz offers to take up the harp in song, Kalandor is only to pleased to listen, and then, to lead the entire group in song and dance.

    Upon the coming of the light, Kalandor merely responds with "The light could well be anything, but let us enjoy ourselves this evening, and concern ourselves with our difficulties on the morrow." Thinking internally that she could well use the rest and fun. He would probaly lend her some of his energy, for it was no use working herself to exhaustion. The Arival of the clay child left him silent and watching, to see Fayruz interact with her people and the respect with which her people deffered to her, something he would well love to enjoy such, but knew that he would not if he desired to truely live amoungst his people and live his own life. When the clay child and Fayruz talked, Kalandor listened intently, and smiles in response to Fayruz. "My dear sister, do you honestly think any of us could do anything otherwise. Some of our hardships may vary both in type and ferocity, but we would not be given any more than we can handle." To this, Kalandor quickly curses internally for invoking Finagle. "But come! Let us celebrate, to our love ones and their succeses." Kalandor embraces Fayruz, and she can feel his joy radiating from him, warming her heart as a fire warms the cold man, and she feels a small part of his power enter her, nothing major, but it removes her pallor, making her skin glow with vibrant colour instead of being an exhausted white, and where Kalandor to feel exhaustion, he does not show it, nor does his skin reveal it. Looking to the child he rests his hand upon the clay childs shoulder, smiling. "Give Avyra my regards, and should you rest to travel from here now or later, go with my blessing." He turned back to Fayruz, smiling, "Now come sister, I think I saw a dance I would like to learn, and if you havn't learnt how to dance as these buetiful girls yet, I may have to slow you down a little." Reaching out he grabbed her by the hand, and everyone in the tent started to become infected with his exuberance.
    My Homebrew Sig.

    Woo, I have a Quote.
    Quote Originally Posted by Moonwolf727 View Post
    To avoid harming the sanity of the DM I can no longer:

    * Cast flesh to stone on a annoying Druid
    ** Cast Rock to mud on a Druid statue
    *** Scoop mud into little ceramic pots
    **** Plant tree's in individual ceramic pots
    ***** Claim that I have helped them become one with nature
    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.

  20. - Top - End - #290
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Raz_Fox's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Location
    Imladris
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Quote Originally Posted by Erik Vale View Post
    Spoiler
    Show
    Kalandor enjoyed the meal immensely. It may not have been large, and I't may not have been good in comparison to divine quisine, but having lived as various insects for the last several days, anything that isn't raw and bleeding or tough and dry is a plesure, for which he offers his complements and his thanks. He knew, though to a lesser extent, the curse that is living in an arid land.
    As for the musicians and dancers, it was true they where great, and Kalandor complemented them as such, and offered to show them a tune of his own devising, a simple song which he acompanies with his staff, which somehow forms a hollow with a single string in front of it, which changes in length, acting as a lute, his voice taking many changes, and, once where the wolf is refferenced, his very throat seems to shift, and he manages to replicate with perfection the wolfs longing howl, which lingered in the air as only the haunting wolfsong can. When Fayruz offers to take up the harp in song, Kalandor is only to pleased to listen, and then, to lead the entire group in song and dance.

    Upon the coming of the light, Kalandor merely responds with "The light could well be anything, but let us enjoy ourselves this evening, and concern ourselves with our difficulties on the morrow." Thinking internally that she could well use the rest and fun. He would probaly lend her some of his energy, for it was no use working herself to exhaustion. The Arival of the clay child left him silent and watching, to see Fayruz interact with her people and the respect with which her people deffered to her, something he would well love to enjoy such, but knew that he would not if he desired to truely live amoungst his people and live his own life. When the clay child and Fayruz talked, Kalandor listened intently, and smiles in response to Fayruz. "My dear sister, do you honestly think any of us could do anything otherwise. Some of our hardships may vary both in type and ferocity, but we would not be given any more than we can handle." To this, Kalandor quickly curses internally for invoking Finagle. "But come! Let us celebrate, to our love ones and their succeses." Kalandor embraces Fayruz, and she can feel his joy radiating from him, warming her heart as a fire warms the cold man, and she feels a small part of his power enter her, nothing major, but it removes her pallor, making her skin glow with vibrant colour instead of being an exhausted white, and where Kalandor to feel exhaustion, he does not show it, nor does his skin reveal it. Looking to the child he rests his hand upon the clay childs shoulder, smiling. "Give Avyra my regards, and should you rest to travel from here now or later, go with my blessing." He turned back to Fayruz, smiling, "Now come sister, I think I saw a dance I would like to learn, and if you havn't learnt how to dance as these buetiful girls yet, I may have to slow you down a little." Reaching out he grabbed her by the hand, and everyone in the tent started to become infected with his exuberance.
    A Dance For Kalandor

    Fayruz, filled with the vigor of her brother, was a sight to see, indeed! She was both uniquely of the rocklands, garbed in her dirty white reversed robes, and of the White City. Oh, and how she wore them! On her, they seemed not to make her lesser but to make her more, not dressing up or decorating the flower but simply highlighting the beautiful life of her face.

    She grasped at Kalandor's hands, entwining her delicate marble-pale fingers about his rough, calloused ones with a bell-like laugh. "Brother," she said, "Most dances here are done alone! However..." She began to move their feet in a familiar pattern, sweeping him into an elegant ballroom dance straight from the White City.

    The other dances around the circle quickly stopped. The Fayheran danced with passion, no matter whether they were descended from the dour Dereg or the wild Ma-Shen. When they were happy, they danced with wild abandon; when lustful, with enticing allure; when sad, with great motion and tearing of hair. But none of their dances could match the shadow of elegance shown before the fire. Fayruz was, for a moment, the princess of the White City in all her finery, dancing with her youngest brother. Her hair was as black as the night sky, her skin as bright as the sun caught within marble, and she moved as if she were in the Plaza of Song once more, not trapped down below. They spun and twirled with quiet elegance, caught in the spell of home.

    Then the two dancers slowed, they stopped, and Fayruz and Kalandor stood face-to-face, their fingers intertwined so tightly, before the bright glow of the fire. She looked at him, and for a moment she was the most beautiful thing in the world; her eyes were the sun fallen from heaven, her skin as pure and faultless as the White City itself, but for the enticing veneer of her sweat gently slicking it, and her lips were as red as the brightest rubies. If all the gods had some primal terror lurking within them, this was hers: that one might fall in love and never fall back out, unless she were to take pity on you and show you the one who loved you most, to break her spell. But then compassion and warm love marred that terrible beauty, softened it into the beautiful face of a sister and a virgin mother.

    "If you want to learn the dances of my people," she said, "I am certain that we would love to teach you. Although there are some more... feminine... dances that you might wish to avoid, darling brother. Avyra or Neive could quite certainly perform them, but... perhaps not one of my brothers."
    -build that wall and build it strong-
    Kasanip - best artist; Rarity - best smile; Thanqol - good Question
    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dervag View Post
    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  21. - Top - End - #291
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Gengy's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2005

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Confrontation aboard Green Morningstar

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by TheDarkDM View Post
    Confrontation aboard Green Morningstar

    As Green Morningstar leveled off, the flock of Chaos Beasts looped around, passing behind a cloudbank in a shadowed flash before howling towards the flying ship in a unified mass. For a moment, it seemed as though they intended to shatter the divinely wrought hull with the simple mass of their bodies, but as Haramhold and Jongo readied themselves for a dire battle a flash of azure cut through the approaching horde. The Beasts of Chaos scattered, breaking into smaller flocks circling their former location. Another flash of brilliant blue, and one of the smaller flocks vanished outright. Panicked now, the beasts scattered in a frenzy of flapping wings, speeding away from their erstwhile prey in terror.

    Jongo, Amanda, and Haramhold had but a moment to consider their sudden deliverance before a groan came from the stern. Turning, they heard Amanda gasp as a sinuous monstrosity coiled around the end of the ship. It was sixty feet long, at least, its body coated in sapphire scales that glinted in the sunlight. Four thin legs emerged from what they assumed must be its main body, tipped by wicked black talons. It had no wings - indeed the only sign of what could allow flight were a pair of rippling fins that ran the length of its body from its forelegs down the end of its tail, the membrane atop it glistening silvery-blue. For a moment, the beast regarded them from on high with blazing green eyes, before lowering its draconic head to their eye level. They could see its head crowned by a trio of long, flat horns that swept back from the head to embrace the open air. Releasing a puff of misty breath that smelled of salt and blood, the dragon spoke through a maw of black, needled teeth.

    "Now aren't you a strange sight in the morning air. What do you make of them, brother?"

    Another creak came from behind Green Morningstar's crew, and a glance behind them revealed another of the blue dragons coiled about the mast.

    "Hard to tell, brother. This one smells of eternity, but the other two are far too rough and crude to be aught but up-jumped mortals."


    "Hrm, perhaps. Tell us, little ones, who are you to fly so high in such an...orange contraption?"


    Jongo landed on Green Morningstar and slowly, carefully, in full view of both dragons, changed back to the figure of a young human child with dusty blond hair and a white shift -- though with pointy ears.

    Green and grey eye stared up at the dragons in wonder, and a small smile played at the corner of Jongo's lips, before he bowed respectfully.

    "You have asked a question, and it will be answered. However, your actions demand something else; my gratitude. Thank you. I did something foolish - fun, but foolish - and your intervention saved us a great deal of hardship." Jongo raised her head, and grinned, no longer able to contain himself. She looked back at Haramhold, and squealed, "Butterfly, look! Dragons! Sooooooo awesome!"

    The Band of Chaos, now a circular necklace, sung a low note, which snapped Jongo back to the matter at hand. Composing himself, Jongo coughed, and slightly abased, addressed the dragons again, "My name is Jongo, Master and/or Mistress of Chaos. Which, you would think, would mean that I'd be able to control Chaos Beasts, at least in some fashion, right? I mean, right? But nooooooo, they didn't want to listen, they..."

    "Ummm... Uncle?" Breaking in, Amanda stopped Jongo's rambling.

    "Yes, Amanda-girl?"

    "Dragons?" Amanda, with just a small jerk of her thumb, pointed up towards the two visitors.

    "Ah, right, excuse me. My nature is to be a bit distracting. Where was I? Oh! Right. Anyways, I'm Jongo, first scion of Baz'Auran. With me is my brother, Butterfly the Builder - more commonly called Haramhold - and his adopted daughter Amanda, who calls me Uncle, which I rather like." Jongo spared a smile towards his companions, before a rope from the rigging dropped down from the sail above, and tapped Jongo's shoulder.

    "Oh! Right. And the 'orange contraption' is Green Morningstar. Haramhold built it, and I helped! A finer Living Ship that flies you won't find anywhere on the Disk. Anyways, we're all headed to see our family. Or, what we hope is our family. You see, we got a bit separated. But look at me, I'm rambling again, aren't I?" Absent mindedly, Jongo giggled. It seemed the sight of two dragons up close was causing her to act a bit giddier than usual.

    So. Normal giddy, plus extra giddy, for a very giddy Jongo.

    With some difficulty, Jongo controlled himself, and pointed at each sentient thing slowly and deliberately as she named them.

    "Let me summarize. Jongo. Haramhold. Amanda (and Jewely, of course). Green Morningstar. Her crew. Oh! And the Band of Chaos." The necklace played a soft hello, gruff and mildly threatening. Like a bodyguard nodding their head, letting people know that if things were to go down, it wouldn't be easy.

    Either not noticing or just unconcerned, Jongo finally asked, "May we ask your names? Also, do I really smell of eternity? I swear I've taken a bath in the past few days."
    Last edited by Gengy; 2012-02-29 at 08:37 PM. Reason: Because I can't believe I forgot Jewely too...
    Spoiler
    Show
    "Fear the Gerbils, lads! For they will destroy you!" ~ DOOM

    BladeofObliviom said:
    I've only seen a character at anything resembling this level of absurdity thrive exactly once, and he/she/what-the-jongo had the advantage of being written by Gengy, who I look up to as a writer.

    "What-the-Jongo?"
    Before you insult someone, walk a mile in their shoes.
    That way, you'll be a mile away, and have their shoes!
    ~avatar by myself

  22. - Top - End - #292
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    TheDarkDM's Avatar

    Join Date
    Apr 2008
    Location
    Los Angeles
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Dark Sands

    As the Fayheran celebrated the arrival of Kalador and their goddess' joy, a rickety caravan trundled past the sentries surrounding the Olm. The confused cries of the watchers went unanswered, yet the wagons were not accosted, for they were familiar. 'Twas one of the first groups to leave as missionaries of Fayruz, that had gone south some weeks ago in search of tribes beyond the rocklands that had yet to experience the beatific peace of Fayruz's rule. Naught seemed amiss as the procession wound through camp, though pack mule and Fayheran alike swayed as though exhausted. As they progressed through the camp, the group splintered, each family and individual angling towards old haunts.

    The screams began moments after the conclusion of Fayruz's dance, and as she and Kalandor looked up in surprise a pair of men crashed through the circle around them and into the firelight. At first, it seemed as though the old feuds had reasserted themselves, but then one of the men vomited black sand in the face of his victim. The other man spasmed, his body twitching like a marionette with tangled strings, and then both men rose as one. The Fayheran around them gasped in horror as they saw the black sand dribbling like spittle and tears from the mens' eyes and mouths, and they screamed when the two terrors charged towards the, mouths opening to reveal throats choked with that accursed darkness.

    I was old when the pharaohs first mounted
    The jewel-decked throne by the Nile;
    I was old in those epochs uncounted
    When I, and I only, was vile;

    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by apocalypsePast2 View Post
    ...one could possibly refer to you guys' elaborate dance of allies-to-enemies-to-suicide-of-the-universe as some sort of weird art form.

    If one were on drugs.
    Quote Originally Posted by VonDoom View Post
    Behold, the mighty slayer of strangely coloured mutant equines! The thwarter of forum woes! The! Dark! DM!

  23. - Top - End - #293
    Troll in the Playground
    Join Date
    Mar 2011
    Location
    Australia

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    ((
    What I would have responded with before Dark))
    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by Raz_Fox View Post
    A Dance For Kalandor
    Spoiler
    Show

    Fayruz, filled with the vigor of her brother, was a sight to see, indeed! She was both uniquely of the rocklands, garbed in her dirty white reversed robes, and of the White City. Oh, and how she wore them! On her, they seemed not to make her lesser but to make her more, not dressing up or decorating the flower but simply highlighting the beautiful life of her face.

    She grasped at Kalandor's hands, entwining her delicate marble-pale fingers about his rough, calloused ones with a bell-like laugh. "Brother," she said, "Most dances here are done alone! However..." She began to move their feet in a familiar pattern, sweeping him into an elegant ballroom dance straight from the White City.

    The other dances around the circle quickly stopped. The Fayheran danced with passion, no matter whether they were descended from the dour Dereg or the wild Ma-Shen. When they were happy, they danced with wild abandon; when lustful, with enticing allure; when sad, with great motion and tearing of hair. But none of their dances could match the shadow of elegance shown before the fire. Fayruz was, for a moment, the princess of the White City in all her finery, dancing with her youngest brother. Her hair was as black as the night sky, her skin as bright as the sun caught within marble, and she moved as if she were in the Plaza of Song once more, not trapped down below. They spun and twirled with quiet elegance, caught in the spell of home.

    Then the two dancers slowed, they stopped, and Fayruz and Kalandor stood face-to-face, their fingers intertwined so tightly, before the bright glow of the fire. She looked at him, and for a moment she was the most beautiful thing in the world; her eyes were the sun fallen from heaven, her skin as pure and faultless as the White City itself, but for the enticing veneer of her sweat gently slicking it, and her lips were as red as the brightest rubies. If all the gods had some primal terror lurking within them, this was hers: that one might fall in love and never fall back out, unless she were to take pity on you and show you the one who loved you most, to break her spell. But then compassion and warm love marred that terrible beauty, softened it into the beautiful face of a sister and a virgin mother.

    "If you want to learn the dances of my people," she said, "I am certain that we would love to teach you. Although there are some more... feminine... dances that you might wish to avoid, darling brother. Avyra or Neive could quite certainly perform them, but... perhaps not one of my brothers."
    A Night to Remember

    The First Dance
    "I was there the night they danced, I saw I sight I shall never forget for all my life and into my reincarnations or afterlife, not because of the magic revealed, not because of their godly graces, but for the love."
    One of the Revelers.

    "Then lead me in one that we can both do."
    While Kalandor had not danced the patterns of the white city, and he was never an avid dancer in the more graceful of dances, but he fell into the old patterns easily, falling into a lead roll, as was taught to him in the halls of song. Where Fayruz glowed with buety, and apeared well as a princes, nay, a queen, Kalandor was as a visiting noble, a knight at best. She danced with grace, for a time a living embodiment of all things graceful and buetiful. Kalandor danced as someone shown the steps, falling into a buetiful pattern, as a plate to show of the grace of food. Fayruz glowed with the inner light a diamond or ruby does, where as Kalandor's tan seemed to be of a ruddy complexion, and his hair to be of the dull earth that man steps on. He steps in perfect time, feeling the spell of familiarity, of homelyness, entiwne them both, hearing in his mind the Voice of the Choir. Her beauty was every bit offset and enhanced when against him, and he was sure he was not the only one who felt as he did when he gazed into her eyes. He stood captive in her spell, and almost felt weak when they stopped, and glad when she spoke.
    "My dear sister, this night I would happily show you every step of every dance I have learned, and every note of every tune I have heard. That you would show me such dances in kind brings me more warmth to my heart than one could ever know."
    Kalandor leaned his head forward, and for but a moment kissed her brow so fair, when his head leaned back, some of his exhuberance had returned.
    --------
    The Second Dance-

    "Besides, I have some gifts that would have me learn every dance."
    And still smiling, Kalandor's face seemed to shift, and them before her, with fingers still entwined Fayruz saw herself reflected, her every beautiful feature shown in a mirror that could not be more perfect. She saw herself, and surely her own breath caught, before she, he, for a moment Fayruz knew not, Kalandor again shifted, where before he was a simple traveller, He stood almost a head taller than he was before, wiry strength replaced with manly muscle, and dirty hair replaced with long hair blacker then night reaching to his shoulders. His complexion was not marred by dull tan, it was a healthy white, with features as if chiselled from a dream. Leathers where now replaced with royal cloth, his chest and shoulders covered in shining plate, warm to touch, and his fingers now held Fayruz's hands delicately. And when he spoke, his voice was deep and seemed to resonate.
    "Let me show a dance from the Kal'garu. It is simerler in grace and intent, but more energetic, to suit our guests." And she had but that moment to feel the eyes lingering upon them before he started moving. And somehow unseen, music began to fill the room.

    This dance, had all the great grace that was of the White City, but was of a nature more bound to the earth. He danced the role of a great ruler dancing with a queen, for that was how he saw her beauty. The dance was of grace but expressing in their love, slow turns and movement where faster, and there were some new moves, such as a spin, which Kalandor talked her through before they reached, and which she too pulled with grace.
    This dance called of both the White City, and of the earth they both felt beneath their feet. It was a compromise, and bound them of a song that sung of Here, and Now..

    Where a moment before, in the gleam of firelight, she had been the greatest of bueties, Kalandor danced as the strongest of men. She could feel the power of his flesh, as strong as any fortress, whose walls surrounded her and gave safety but not suffocation. He exuded the very essence of man, which called to all things feminine within him, his love for her like a beacon shining for home. His dance was a response to her that he had made many times to many women, yet this one he showed not just the love he showed for the woman, if just for the night, but a fearful reply to what had gripped them both before. Will you choose me, if just for a night. Will you accept me... Yet even as hers was a terror, his was restraint that spoke of just the night, that he must go, that to settle was not him, that he had not found what he was looking for, yet this was underlined by a fear that he had.

    And not a single of the revellers danced, not the merry guard that had sat at her side, or the one of the woman who had come lustful, to seek a night of passion, all stood watching them dance a dance of love. They still stood in silent awe as the dance winded down, and both the dance and music stopped. The music having a sudden end that spoke of things more unsaid.

    And when Kalandor finally spoke, it was a suprised his voice did not waver.
    My sister. If you can not see that I, as all your brothers would in the sight of such a beauty, would like to learn all you would teach and show you in return all I can, then I would happily lift the veal from your eyes while we await the suns rise.
    His eyes, dark brown pits that seemed to draw her eyes as the open road draws Kalandor, spoke volums of the truth of his words, and those few that could see his eyes to saw the love in them. He broke the mode only with the greatest reluctance, with a whisper only she can hear.
    "However, lest you wish to show me all your dances, we may wish to dance with another partner for a moment.
    And yet his words would only drive the slightest of wedges into the mood. It was clear that while he led the dance, he would leave this dance for Fayruz to lead.


    Kalandor was used to surprises, so it was no surprise he reacted first and quickly.

    It was at this moment Kalandor was very glad he was a shapeshifter, for he could do several things very fast, that no mortal (that he knew of) could d0.
    First, his hands slipped through Fayruz's, simply shifting around them, allowing Kalandor to turn to face the beings.
    A third hand sprouted out of his back, grabbing his stave, which quickly flowwed up his body to his ready hands.
    His form went from a human with wiry strength to a large human with obvious muscles, as well as several modifacations he had made for fighting with his stave, made by observing the beastial beings and picking the best traits.
    His head became that of a large wolf with wicked and sharp horns.
    His skin became scaled.
    His joints suddenly became ball joints, but would change to provide strength.
    And all this happened in the time it took for him to step forward.
    And anyone that looked past him still probally wouldn't have noticed the stave becoming a double glaive.

    If anyone was stunned with shock, they were douby so now, and the attackers probaly would be at this point as well.
    And Kalandor had only just launched to the attack, striking with flicking but powerful motions towards both of them.
    Last edited by Erik Vale; 2012-02-29 at 08:44 PM.
    My Homebrew Sig.

    Woo, I have a Quote.
    Quote Originally Posted by Moonwolf727 View Post
    To avoid harming the sanity of the DM I can no longer:

    * Cast flesh to stone on a annoying Druid
    ** Cast Rock to mud on a Druid statue
    *** Scoop mud into little ceramic pots
    **** Plant tree's in individual ceramic pots
    ***** Claim that I have helped them become one with nature
    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.

  24. - Top - End - #294
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    daelrog's Avatar

    Join Date
    Dec 2009
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Dark Sands

    Dasque's eyes sent white sparks of anger out as her inner radiance boiled over. What was the wind? Was it pushed? Was it pulled? Was it strangled around the lecherous, vicious thing that besieged her?

    No, it was all about pressure.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Major Act: Gain and Ability: Air Mastery: Dasque has gained intimate knowledge of the air from her fight with the Sussurus, learning its fundamental secrets.


    There was two seconds of a deep, low rumbling from the space around Dasque as the pressure intensified. For that brief momet all was silent. Then Dasque let loose a half smile, and released the air around her, shattering her corrupted servants, and causing the air around her to spiral wildly, as she played with the air like a puppet master.

    The goddess wrapped the air around heer body and lifted herself off the ground, carrying her off the tower, moving fast towards the divine sibling that awaited her below. She did not look to see which of her siblings it was, her focus bent of manipulating the wind, and seeing if it was enough to stop the creature.

  25. - Top - End - #295
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Raz_Fox's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Location
    Imladris
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Quote Originally Posted by TheDarkDM View Post
    Spoiler
    Show
    Dark Sands

    As the Fayheran celebrated the arrival of Kalador and their goddess' joy, a rickety caravan trundled past the sentries surrounding the Olm. The confused cries of the watchers went unanswered, yet the wagons were not accosted, for they were familiar. 'Twas one of the first groups to leave as missionaries of Fayruz, that had gone south some weeks ago in search of tribes beyond the rocklands that had yet to experience the beatific peace of Fayruz's rule. Naught seemed amiss as the procession wound through camp, though pack mule and Fayheran alike swayed as though exhausted. As they progressed through the camp, the group splintered, each family and individual angling towards old haunts.

    The screams began moments after the conclusion of Fayruz's dance, and as she and Kalandor looked up in surprise a pair of men crashed through the circle around them and into the firelight. At first, it seemed as though the old feuds had reasserted themselves, but then one of the men vomited black sand in the face of his victim. The other man spasmed, his body twitching like a marionette with tangled strings, and then both men rose as one. The Fayheran around them gasped in horror as they saw the black sand dribbling like spittle and tears from the mens' eyes and mouths, and they screamed when the two terrors charged towards the, mouths opening to reveal throats choked with that accursed darkness.
    Dark Sands

    CRACK.

    Most of the dancers and musicians had run screaming from the circle into the darkness, especially given that their guest had transformed from a homely traveler into a ferocious beast. Fayruz herself, however, froze with terror and - written across her face plain for all to see - pity. In that moment, Saven Wolfslayer pulled the sling from his belt, slipped a rock in, and let it fly straight and true.

    Of all the weapons of man, the sling is the most fearsome at a distance. A spear can be thrown well enough, but nothing can destroy a man like a sling's bullet cracking against his head. One of the possessed men fell back, his neck snapping loudly, as Saven placed another rock in his sling and began to swing it.

    Gamesha, meanwhile, had moved in a focused blur, interposing himself between Fayruz and the black-sand man without a weapon. He grinned viciously. "Stay back, my lady. I'll take him, should your brother not."

    Meanwhile, all through the camp, chaos reigned. The reign of Fayruz had been based on peace and trust between the tribes, trust now betrayed. Cries of 'ghouls' and 'minotaur!' echoed through the camp, as hunters took up their spears and swords. The second Battle of the Olm would be a brutal thing, waged by torchlight and claiming more than a few innocents.
    -build that wall and build it strong-
    Kasanip - best artist; Rarity - best smile; Thanqol - good Question
    Spoiler
    Show
    Quote Originally Posted by PhoeKun View Post
    Raz, you scoundrel! You planned this!
    Quote Originally Posted by BladeofObliviom View Post
    Great, and now I'm imagining what Raz's profile on a dating site would look like. "Must be okay with veils."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    I don't think there is such a time to have veils that it is not the fault of Raz_Fox.
    Quote Originally Posted by Dervag View Post
    It's a freaking Romulan dump truck. The Romulans are no more likely to build an unarmed warp-capable ship than they are to become a hippy commune.

  26. - Top - End - #296
    Troll in the Playground
    Join Date
    Mar 2011
    Location
    Australia

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    The Black Sands

    Kalandor cursed himself. Ghoul wasn't the only cry but he had to take this form if he wanted to make sure that as few would come to harm as possible from these beasts. He wasn't a skilled fighter by the standerds of the holy city, or even that of this worlds greater heoroes. He was however two things, very fast, very strong, and very adaptable.
    So was his weapon, funnaly enough.

    With the left hand one falling back to the slings swift stones Kalandor switched from weilding a twin glaive to a spear with a rather stout end. Of all the polearms and staves this is by far the most useful, having much force behind it, and caperble for a range of strikes, from quick slashes like a sword to impalement.
    Kalandor pitied the ghoul, to use the humans word for it, as it was fallen upon it a blur of spear, fand and horn.
    My Homebrew Sig.

    Woo, I have a Quote.
    Quote Originally Posted by Moonwolf727 View Post
    To avoid harming the sanity of the DM I can no longer:

    * Cast flesh to stone on a annoying Druid
    ** Cast Rock to mud on a Druid statue
    *** Scoop mud into little ceramic pots
    **** Plant tree's in individual ceramic pots
    ***** Claim that I have helped them become one with nature
    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Congrats, you made me laugh hard enough to draw my family's attention.

  27. - Top - End - #297
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    AntiMatter101's Avatar

    Join Date
    Jun 2011
    Location
    Illinois
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Frellon stood in the white snow and wondered why they kept coming. Once the other Orc tribes in the area had discovered them, it seemed word had spread quickly. This was the third raid this month, a new record. The bodies of three Orc warriors before him dyed the snow red. Even in winter they attacked, no parley, no terms. They simply, raided, and never surrendered. Twice a group had successfully made off with some supplies. Once, some made the mistake of carrying off an Orc woman.

    Frellon had returned with their heads and the woman in tow the very same day.

    There seemed to be a whole lot more orcs than he had thought there were out here. The Orunta were a small tribe in comparison to the ones that lived out here on the plains. On the handful of scouting trips he had taken, he had seen counted between 12 and 18 different camps within 100 miles. That was just it though, the others came and went, as if they traveled regularly and often. Frellon’s little city was the only stationary Orc settlement out here.

    Curious.

    But how the other Clans conducted themselves was not his affair, for Frellon’s task was only to ensure that his Clan would flourish, defend itself, and grow.

    Frellon frowned. That’s right, they would begin to grow more rapidly soon enough. The better part of a year had passed already, and there were dozens of mewling infants among the Clan. The pride Frellon felt in his people was great. They would grow to be the next generation of Orunta!

    Frellon paid the blood seeping into the ground no more mind as he turned and made his way back to his home on the hill.

    -------------------

    At first Frellon had insisted on defending the Village-city personally, as his people were few in number and were trained in hunting weapons, which were not ideal for combat. However, as the next generation began to crawl, walk, and then run, Frellon began the training of his people in earnest. He had finally collected enough discarded bows and arrows from the raids- it seemed the Orcs of these plains had developed weapons that the forest people had not -he had decimated to feel comfortable spending the reserves of ammunition on training. He had yet to convince his people to make arrows themselves, but he was hoping these lessons would change that.

    Frellon faced the Orc children lined up in front of him, inspecting them. They were all male, healthy, strong and full of vigor; the perfect base upon which to build a warrior.

    The first Lesson was refreshing for Frellon, it went similarly to his first real lesson with Eliat.

    “What is the difference between the clubs your fathers use to hunt with, and these bows?” Frellon addressed the young ones.

    One of the braver ones dared to reply. “the bow can hit things far away, and the clubs hit things close to you?”

    Eliat had rounded on Frellon mercilessly, but Frellon knew he was already respected and slightly feared by his Clan, and did not want to support the fear aspect of it.

    “True, however, that is not the difference I refer to. The club is a weapon of choice. I can strike my enemy with a light blow or a hard one. I can knock my enemy out or break his wrist so he can no longer fight. If the need arises, I can strike an enemy with such strength that it crushes him and he dies. The club allows me to choose between life and death when I strike the enemy.” Frellon let that sink in.

    “The bow, by contrast, is a weapon of death. An arrow to the head, heart, or gut is lethal, often instantly. I cannot decide to spare an enemy with a bow; my arrow is not guided by my hand upon the entire length of its flight. A bow is a killing weapon. Only pick up the bow when your intent is lethality. Only fire an arrow when the intent is to kill.”

    “Your father’s may casually bash each other with their clubs in jest. This is impossible with a bow. You will constantly treat bows with the respect their capacity for death deserves, or you will never touch another bow again. Is this understood?”

    A spattering of agreement. Frellon frowned. “When I ask if something is understood, the answer is either ‘Yes, Bow-Master’ or ‘No, Bow-Master’. Is this understood?"

    “Yes, Bow-Master!” Frellon smiled, it was eager and predatory. He would turn them into fine Warriors, but they needed to learn respect for their weapons and for his instructions- Baz’Auran knows Eliat had drummed such into him.

    “Now then. This part of the arrow is called the fletching, and it keeps the arrow flying straight and true.”

    -------------------

    Frellon watched from a corner of the mess hut as his grown, former students shared a boisterous meal. They had fought off their first raid together, with no casualties. He had expected some to second guess the killing, as he had at first. However, it seemed the 34 warriors he had trained were so used to the concept of him killing the raiders off that it didn’t bother them. Which was good, the raiders deserved no mercy, as they came into his territory with evil in their hearts and were willing to kill and die for it. There was no honor in what they attempted, but the honor of the Orunta grew as they sought no further retaliation against those who attacked them, other than the deaths of those raiders who refused to flee or surrender once the raid was discovered.

    He had trained his warriors extensively with the bow, and taught them the basics of spear, club, and staff fighting. More importantly, he had taught them the methods for passing that knowledge on to others, as Eliat had generously done for him. The future generations of the Orunta would no longer need his personal instruction in this, which suited him.

    Frellon had finally ensured that his people would be able defend themselves from the raids, rather than relying on him to step in each time. They were on equal footing now too, the Orunta and the raiders. With the excited youths to help convince the rest of the Clan, there was now a steady supply of arrows and bows being created. The arrows of other Clans would be met in kind should they strike while he was away.

    And yes, he was leaving.

    It was high time he went looking for his siblings. The needs of his people were all that had kept him here these last few years. Frellon had missed half a song, a long while ago. He was fighting when it arrived, and as he slew the last opponent, the words had become clear in the ensuing silence:

    Have you left your sister?
    Please, my siblings, come!
    I wait for you in this land.
    The rocks whisper among
    Themselves, and the wind
    Whips up the sand into
    Great clouds of dust over
    The sweet streams and
    The high mountains that
    Are barren and cold yet
    Have given birth to these
    Brave people who follow!
    Come and meet them!
    Your sister waits at the Olm-
    Hoping that she is not alone…


    Frellon only vaguely recalled the geography lessons. He was relatively sure all of the continents had some mountains or another. What was the ‘Olm’? The song was Fayruz’s, Frellon could pick out that voice and that harp anywhere, but if he was to find her, how would he get there? He didn’t know where she was! The problem had bothered him through many a long night.

    Frellon left the hut and made his way to his own hut. Once inside, he began packing, taking two bows, the Sword of Heroes, three quivers of arrows, and a pack filled with supplies he’d been preparing for a while.

    While Frellon was horrendous at most forms of magic, sensing the presence of the other gods was more instinct than much else, and he could tell that none of his siblings were north or east of him. All were some distance south or west, or both.

    Frellon hefts his pack, which is the perfect weight, heavy, but manageable, and leaves the hut. He does not need to announce his departure, he has long since told his plans to Trekel.

    Frellon begins a swift march in a south-western direction, and passes from the village.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Minor act: Teach the Orunta Clan various arts of war, most specifically that of the Bow.
    Last edited by AntiMatter101; 2012-02-29 at 11:19 PM.
    Avatar by Vrythas

  28. - Top - End - #298
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Jade_Tarem's Avatar

    Join Date
    Sep 2006
    Location
    Elsewhere
    Gender
    Male

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Bird is the Word

    The Roc dived and raked at Faden - the difference in their sizes was such that actually gripping Faden with its talons was out of the question. Faden focused his Will and moved to the bird's talons, clinging to them - with his reduced weight and lack of actual muscle, it wasn't even tiring.

    From his position, Faden looked up. "You know what? No. This is ludicrous. I refuse to believe that a creature as large as you could possibly exist, to say nothing of flying and hovering. What would you even eat?"

    Had the godling still possessed a heart, it would have skipped a beat - the bird stunned him by answering. "Whales, mostly." The voice was distinctly feminine, although roughened by age.

    "Oh, whales!" Faden exclaimed sarcastically, moving to the bird's back as she snapped at him. "Well, I'm glad Father made a species of creatures that big solely to support the Absurdly Large Bird population." The Roc suddenly dove, picking up speed and forcing him to hang on to her feathers.

    "You should be. If the whales weren't there to support larger beasts, then what would the really big creatures eat?" The Roc banked into a sharp turn, trying to shake the godling, but still Faden hung on, his mind working partly on how to convince the Roc to back down but mostly ruminating on what a bad idea it was to let his older sibling have so much influence on his Father during the creation of the Great Disk's ecosystem. Oh Jongo, you've done a really stupid thing, here.

    The Roc plunged into a valley that was nonetheless wide enough to accommodate her massive wingspan. Stony arches and massive columns spanned the ravine - it was a wondrous-looking place, if somewhat desolate, but the son of Baz'Auran had no time to examine it as the creature started weaving back and forth, up and down between the stones. "That's even more ridiculous! What's at the top of the food chain, then?" The feather Faden was hanging onto broke loose and he grabbed for another.

    "Logically, the Alpha Predator would be the one that no one survived meeting long enough to talk about."

    Faden blinked - metaphorically, of course. "Are you mocking me?"

    The Roc looked back at him, semi-hostile amusement twinkling in the huge eye. "Are you asking if I'm a mocking bird? Perish the thought. On second thought, just perish." A sudden, powerful downbeat of the massive bird's wings slammed the creature's back against the bottom of one of the arches. When the Roc looked back again, Faden was gone.

    The massive bird settled on one of the arches, sighing. "Disappointing."

    "I'll say. You telegraph virtually all of your attacks."

    The Roc let out a startled squawk and hopped a full dozen feet. "You're still alive!"

    "Of course." A cloud of bluish smoke coalesced on the arch next to her. "The mystery is where all of this hostility is coming from. We've barely met."

    The Roc leaned forward, one massive eye to Faden's two bright points of light. "You stole the stone I was guarding."

    Faden's hood shook. "Nonsense. If you were guarding the stone you would have buried it, probably here in this canyon, rather than placing it on top of a mountain where everyone could see it. The stone was a lure, I'm just trying to figure out why. If you're smart enough to speak, then you're smart enough to know that I'm not food. What do you want?"

    "Food! How insulting. There's more to life than eating, godling!" The Roc gripped the arch tightly and flapped her wings once, hard. The draft blew Faden clear off the stone and into the ravine, and the huge bird dived after him. "I am a great hunter! A mighty hunter!" Faden once again willed himself onto the back of the Roc - it seemed to be the only safe spot near the creature. The Roc surprised him by pulling up, gaining altitude at an alarming rate.

    "Alright, so you're a mighty hunter. That doesn't answer my question at all." The son of Baz'Auran noted that the air was rapidly growing colder. The chill itself didn't bother him, but eventually it would get cold enough to freeze the resin holding his bandages together, and that could be a problem.

    "Ah, but I am a little less mighty every day. I am an old Roc, godling, much older than I look. I have no desire to grow steadily weaker until I am torn apart by flying sharks-"

    "Please tell me that isn't a real thing."

    "-and so I when I found that chunk of immortality, I knew what I could do. I would wait for powerful beings to come and take it, and go out in battle with one of them, in one blaze of glory. But then the black sand came and began devouring them first!" The Roc snorted indignantly as they continued to ascend. "I couldn't do battle with sand of course - it would be completely beneath my dignity. But then you beat the sand, and I realized that nothing could be better than going out in combat with a god. A true child of the Creator! Nothing could be more glorious. But then we started fighting and all you do is evade. Not even a single lightning bolt! I'm disappointed."

    "Prepare to be disappointed further. You know I could conjure a magical wall in front of you at any time, right? At these speeds you'd have no choice but to hit it. Even if you broke it, it would stop your flight rather violently. There'd be a long drop to the ground, which I can survive, and you'd have a crushed skull, which you can't survive."

    "Then why haven't you done that?"

    Faden crawled up toward the Roc's head, one huge feather at a time. "Because that would be a waste. A big one, if you'll pardon the pun. Let's say you do die in battle here. Who gains anything? No one. I doubt anyone will have witnessed your fight with me. The humans of the clans won't record it. You'll just be some bird that I killed. And I'll have spent a lot of time and energy with nothing - other than the immortality stone, here - to show for it."

    The Roc leveled off. "And you have a better plan?"

    "I do. Take me where I want to go, to meet my siblings. In between my other activities, I will find a way to bring you eternal glory. Everyone will know your name, and your legend, instead of never beginning, will never end."

    "Will you offer me jewelry to accomplish this?" The bird snarked.

    "Saw that, did you? Paideiazel and Qarezel were greedy fools. Besides, I promised them eternal life, not eternal glory. I'll tell you up front that the cost of such glory will probably be your life, but if you were willing to die pointlessly a minute ago, then you should be happy to die for what I'm offering. What say you?"

    "...very well. I accept your offer, god-child. Where are your siblings?"

    "Well, that's what I was attempting to find out, when I was so rudely interrupted." A pair of sprites zoomed up to him, telling him of Avyra - and bearing Khalen's message of Dasque's predicament. "South, it seems. We should head there as fast as we can."

    The Roc banked in a sharp turn, toward the edge of the disk. "South it is, then. Remember your promise!"

    "I'll keep up my end of the bargain, never fear." Faden focused his Desire and Will, pushing the Roc to move faster than ever before. Within moments the pair were moving faster than the huge bird ever had before, leaving even sound itself behind. "So... do you have a name, or shall I introduce you to my siblings as the world's largest and grumpiest chicken?"

    "My name is Pyra. Do you have a name, or will you introduce yourself as the world's most uppity laundry?"

    The son of Baz'Auran snickered. "I am Faden, Pyra. And so far, I seem to be the Alpha Predator." The pair shot across the waters, a colossal BOOM trailing them as they went looking for trouble...
    Spoiler: Now Playing...
    Show
    The Game Master in Happily Ever After (Pathfinder)
    Harmony "NetFire" Argall, Cyborg Decker in In the Shade of the Apple Tree (Shadowrun 5e)
    The Storyteller in The Vision of Light (Exalted 2.5e)
    Andrea "Spitfire" MacShane, Pyrokinetic Superhero in Bioshock Golden Age (Mutants and Masterminds 2e)
    Kith "Spider" Kitusen, Mercenary for Hire in The Playground 7: City of Ashes (Structured Freeform)
    Amazing Zealot avatar by Elder Tsofu

  29. - Top - End - #299
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    BladeofObliviom's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2011

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Part 3: The Deciever
    Behind the suspiciously thin wall of false stone, a maelstrom of colors and sights stood before Roselia. There was a narrow path, resembling a ribbon thrown onto the floor more than any true road, crossing over a void filled with nothing but vibrant, yet sinister, colors.
    Feeling a hint of hesitation holding her back, Rose tested the road ahead of her. Finding it to be about as solid as one would expect an illusion to be, she stepped out in earnest. It was only a few steps before the road crumbled under her feet.
    Terror gripped Roselia as she found herself in freefall. And yet, she was simply in a void. She wasn't really falling. There wasn't even air passing by her. There was no air here at all! Yet, she could breathe. Strange. Soon, she gave up on flailing around: It wasn't going to get her anywhere. Still, she could see a glimmer of light on the horizon; Maybe that was the next location? At any rate, it had to be better than the darkness of the void. Still, it seemed impossible for her to move here. Flailing did nothing, as there was no air here to push against.
    Her mind shifted back to one of her old lessons with Tezzerin. On physics. Roselia always paid attention to Tezzerin's lessons: her relentless curiosity wouldn't let her do otherwise. And now, one of these lessons was about to save her from eternal entrapment in this intolerable void. Taking the heaviest item in her inventory that she wasn't likely to need, Rose threw her hairbrush in the opposite direction of that glimmer of light, and was propelled, if slowly towards it. Illusion or no, the laws of physics tend to be rather reliable.
    She drifted for minutes, hours, and perhaps even days, eventually reaching what appeared to be a moon-sized sphere of stone and iron. It felt just as wrong as the cave before it, but that didn't really matter. Roselia looked around once again and saw before her a door. A standing door. There was nothing connected to it but a doorframe and the ground below it, simply a door. A door that had a hairline crack in it.
    Repeating her previous reaction to such a fissure, Roselia thrust her knife into it, only to hear a piercing shriek as the piece of metal, so far from the power that had initially made it reality, began to turn a bright red color and drip liquid metal even as Roselia clutched her scorched left hand.
    Within seconds, the door burst open to reveal the true face of a nightmare. It was a creature legendary even by the standards of its ilk, and few Beasts of Chaos were more fearsome than this monster.
    The beast, now that it could be seen, was even more terrible and grand than she had believed based on the tales of it heard within the White City. This miniscule fraction of its true form extended almost eighty meters into the sky, every inch of it covered in foot-wide plates of chiseled golden chitin. Between the plates, a soft red glow emerged, the overall effect producing a creature that seemed to be made of fire and wrapped in brass. Circular sections of chitin were pushed outward and upward to accommodate each of its thousands of (visible; the beast has over a billion in total) legs, each about four inches in diameter and over six feet in length with five separate joints, each individual digit ending in wicked-looking barbed claws not dissimilar to the head of an arrow. The Malcanthorix' head was slightly wider than the rest of its form, perhaps being as large as a typical African Elephant. Its jaw had a distinctly serpentine shape, two thousand fangs lining the interior of beast's maw. Blades rimmed the outside of the creature's orifices, and a pair of razor-sharp horns extended backward across the beast's skull and around the sides of its head in a spiral. Indeed, the Malcanthorix looked like the very visage of death itself, somewhere between a Ram, a Snake, a Centipede, and a host of ineffable, yet more dreadful things. But most terrible of all were its eyes. The creature's eyes were completely blackened, with only a small pinprick of bright yellow adorning its pupil. That yellow light from its eyes seemed to come in force outwards, like a laser, and one felt pierced by its gaze. But that was not the worst feature of them: As one continued to look at them, runes and symbols, dreams and nighmares, and the very dichotomy of life and death seemed to flash across them, and they seemed to stare deep into one's soul, searching for something with the unspoken knowledge that such a beast would not hesitate to take what it desired.
    And yet, it spoke. A forked tongue escaped from its mouth, flickering as it did so.

    "I ssshould have expected thisss. Godlingsss like you never ssstay where you belong. You are impertinent for attempting to essskape tvisssse in one day. You are ussseful asss a power sssource, but you are alssso trouble. Go back to your sssleep, and all will be forgiven. Try to essskape again, and your sssleep will be far more permanent. For now, ressst..."

    "Wait, let's be reasonab-"

    The yellow eyes flashed to full brightness once again, and Roselia collapsed to the floor.
    Spoiler
    Show


    Normal Avatar by Thormag!

  30. - Top - End - #300
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    BladeofObliviom's Avatar

    Join Date
    Aug 2011

    Default Re: Heroes of the Fall

    Chapter 4: Smoke and Mirrors
    Now, however, she awoke. A pair of blue eyes flickered open to an unfamiliar ceiling, lit only by the viridian luminescence of the mossy coating upon the walls, and the muted sound of a gasp escaped into the chilling underground air. She was alone. For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. Father couldn't watch over her here, and most of her siblings were far away - NO!
    Something was very wrong here. This image, it seemed familiar, if barely. Like a construct of her imagination, or a nightmare of her - NO!
    That was a memory, not truth! It couldn't be true! It was downright impossible! It was becoming increasingly clear to Roselia that she was dealing with a foe who was just as proficient at illusion as she believed herself to be, and certainly far more proficient than her in combat. She sighed. That thing had said something about using her as a power source, but only when she slept. That meant that, the more she rebelled against it, the weaker its illusions would become. Roselia managed to crack a smile.
    Now that she had a plan, Rose needed to bait this thing into coming after her directly. First, she tore the glowing moss from the walls, scattering it on the floor and causing the lighting to come from that point instead. The first layer of the deception came here: She had to make the creature think that she was trying to go to sleep by turning the lights out.
    The second layer was more complex: She had to break the first layer of this illusion. After all, it seemed that she still had the butter knife here, meaning that the layers of illusion were certainly separate. She took the knife, thrust it into the wall, and tore it down again. This time, she wasn't distracted by the road; she continued tearing down the walls until the ceiling fell. The illusion collapsed in upon itself, and she awoke upon the moon, the Malcanthorix having exited the illusory world. The door here was already open for her: She simply stepped through.
    And now, she awoke again in reality, as she had the first time, when the Malcanthorix had first put her under its thrall. Now, however, she was in control of the situation. She took her knife, and began marching through the tunnel towards the beast's lair.
    As she emerged, she was suddenly beset on all sides by the thick coils of the beast, as its head appeared above her.

    "YOU HAVE CROSSSSED ME FOR THE LASSST TIME, FOOLISH MAMMAL!"

    Roselia, in a desperate move, flung the butter knife at the creature's right eye, piercing it. The Malcanthorix emitted an ear-piercing shriek, and its left eye turned bright red rather than its usual yellow. Roselia's face paled at the realization that she'd barely even affected the beast with her ploy. This was bad. This was very bad. And now she was about to pay the ultimate price for her foolishness. Maybe a two-layer deception wasn't all too great of an idea, after all?

    "WELCOME TO SSSLEEP ETERNAL, MORTAL!"

    And thus it was that the Malcanthorix unleashed its greatest weapon, the gaze of death. A simple eyeing that burns souls away in mere seconds, and leaves the body a shriveled, lifeless husk. And this evil eye was pointed directly at Roselia.
    There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. This was the moment that she was about to die.
    Spoiler
    Show


    Normal Avatar by Thormag!

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •