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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: A shieldic discovery
The monk smiled quickly, nodding his head at Scourge, thanking him for the spell of healing as the warm touch of Erenall closed the remainder of his wounds. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked down at the bloody cloth he now wore. The damp cloth sagged and stuck to his skin, the blood quickly drying as he picked it off.
The shirt was garbage; useless now that it had been torn all down the back and soaked in his blood. He removed it and rolled it up around a strap on his small pack, tying it off to keep the cotton (or wool w/e it is). Despite it being bloody, it could come to use later. His pale skin stood out from the remaining brown cloth pants he worn. It was tempting to put back on his forest robes, but he chose not to. It would simply waste time.
He walked calmly over to where the others still stood, moving away from the now still statues and up onto the platform.
They were examining the shield, noting the writing that graced its face.
"What...What does it say?" asked Teros.
Vilyamar looked to Scourge and Damien, thinking perhaps if anyone, those two would know. Perhaps Rinrin might also, though it was unknown to him other than the fact that the language was one that had not been used by any mortal for over 10,000 years.
"I do not know, Teros, though it is good that you have seen your path coinciding with ours once again," the monk said, bowing to the dark skinned knight. "I can only tell you that the script is one unused in this age, for it is the writing of the gods, last used to speak to mortal minds 10,000 years ago. This shield must be at least as ancient as the end of that age."
((When we are done discussing the shield))
"We have a long night ahead..." said the monk. "We should move on and return to the fork in the path."
Posted on 2006-09-12 at 14:34:32.
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Topic: RDINN Feature Updates/ Suggestions/ Bugs
Subject: Odd
That was my post. Somehow it logged me into Missy's acc, though it still said "You are currently logged in as Vilyamar. "
Odd.
Posted on 2006-09-08 at 23:34:44.
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Topic: **Noldaria*Final War**
Subject: Poste Move
The monk spun again as pain flared, clouding his mind to nearly the point of indecision. His leg felt warm as blood soaked through the cloth and ran freely from the stab wound on his hip. Blood pooled in the back of his shirt as the cut across his back shifted, causing a new wave of nauseating pain to flow through his body. Only the intense training that occupied many years of his lifetime kept the half-elf from falling to the ground and lying still, awaiting the cool dark of death to slip over his consciousness.
His right leg was all but useless, dragging painfully along as he hopped about bashing away another slash from a mindless attacker. More came at him and hope began to diminish until it was all but a fleeting dream. Simple men lived simple lives, far away from the death and destruction that had followed him in his way of life. Adventuring was dangerous, but it had to be done. The runes had been traced and told the story of his life in the fates. If this was to be the end, then that was shall it will be.
He fell, stumbling into two of his attackers even as a new blade sliced into his chest, cutting into bone and bringing about only an instinctual reaction to roll away from the blade, to prevent himself from impaling further upon it. With a crash he fell to the floor, two of his attackers falling as well. He cried out as he twisted, moving his only defense, a pair of glowing nunchaku, up to try and block the halberd blade that joined its brethren in a shower of death.
Then the light shone, glowing fiercely from beyond his hazy vision. Vilyamar did not close his eyes, for he would die with honor; without fear. Perhaps this final flash was the gateway to the other ends of time. The place his soul would find rest upon leaving this world. Time seemed to stand still, as unmoving as the statuesque figures about him, their armor and blades shining in the dark. Then, he realized that he was still breathing.
The monk could hear the others as well, some laboring for breath like him, others panting simply from exhaustion as the adrenaline running through their veins dwindled and their hearts tried to return to a normal pace. Vilyamar lay there on the dusty stone, feeling his lifeblood spill away about him. There was not much he could do but wait for assistance. They still had a long, long way to go.
He heard some things, naught but footsteps in the dark to him as his mind poured through his body, listening and feeling as his heart tried to pump blood to his extremities. It was not too terribly long ago that he had gained the ability to heal his wounds, to purge poison from his veins through a concentrated effort. He closed his eyes and felt down the long cut across his back and the deep wounds in both his hip and chest. His heart slowed instinctively, reducing the flow of blood to these areas as well as the blood lost. With his mind he reached out to the area about his hip, using the muscles to drive what cartilage was left intact into its rightful position. A wince crossed his face and he felt warmth overcome him. He opened his eyes to see Scourge touching his shoulder, murmuring softly. Vilyamar bowed his head slightly from his position, thanking the half-orc softly, and went back to the task at hand…
((Healing himself 14/16 Wholeness of Body and all that. Will return mobility to his leg first then his ribs wound, then back in that order, unless something in his leg or chest is healed by the spell. Mainly tries to take care of the internal, lasting injuries.))
Posted on 2006-09-05 at 15:49:48.
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