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Topic: Footprints: Part One, Chapter Five
Subject: Why hello there...
Varis raised a hand to his head. He was dizzy, nothing more. He was wearing some form of overrobe...silk. Quite nice, actually, and over the clothes he was wearing before, though someone had relieved him of the rest of his armor and effects.
He put a hand on the bed to steady himself as he swung his legs over, standing even as he swayed somewhat, steadying himself with the bed.
'I'd better get out there as soon as possible. Thomas gets into trouble when I'm not there, and DHarem has a tendency to be a bit confrontational. I wouldn't put it past those two and Bon to be getting into some sort of trouble, not to mention the mage...' Varis though to himself, determinedly, yet quickly, slipping the loose robe over his head, breathing steadily. Around the room there were a mere five other beds, all empty...it seemed the clinic didn't like to shove many people together. A comforting idea.
The bard smiled, looking the nurse that stood nearby in the eyes, smiling pleasantly - even charmingly.
"Excuse me, but could you please tell me where the Councillor of Magic is?"
Posted on 2011-05-10 at 12:54:49.
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Topic: Flux Wars
Subject: It's the alcohol!
-Note, I usually use "(!)" to end a sentence when denoting sarcasm.-
Crystal suddenly lifted her head from her drink, chin raised as she laughed. A hearty, full laugh from times long passed to the woman.
"My tale?" Crystal smiled; Or was it a smirk?, "You are a talkative one, Rege'. But you're straightforward; something I can appreciate in your species when it occurs."
Crystal swirled the liquid around in her glass, gazing into it for a moment. Maybe she was starting to finally be noticeably affected...she'd had a few strong alcoholic beverages today. She grimaced, some part of her suspecting the alcohol to blame for her talkativeness. Nevertheless, she continued.
"Oh, well, the usual. Valsavatharian girl has mage parents. Goes to Valsavatharian mage circle; now with free boarding school option(!) Girl is excellent student. Girl meets boy. Girl and boy fall in love. Boy slain by Ice Mage. Girl suspected of murder. Girl proved innocent; still feared and mistrusted by other students, mages and servicemen alike..." Crystal drolled, reciting the short sentences as if summing up her life in notes scrawled upon a paper. She took a large mouthful of her drink, suddenly standing and turning her back to the room as she looked once again outside the window, which was starting to defog.
Posted on 2011-05-10 at 12:40:40.
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Topic: Flux Wars
Subject: SInce you ask...
Crystal shrugged at Rege's reply, and at the statements of Lantaris, which she seemed to let go - ignoring the elf.
Reaching out, Crystal took the offered glass of wine, sipping it delicately without bothering to hide the wince in her face. Not her style of drink, but it'd do...She took another sip, glad to have a drink in her hands once more, the brief warmth of alcohol filling her body.
"A job that normally doesn't require effort, free food and payment for drink. Life's treating me as it has for years. Fine by me." Crystal replied to Rege' cooly, her drink inevitably rising once again to her lips.
Posted on 2011-05-08 at 04:42:27.
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Topic: Footprints: Part One, Chapter Five
Subject: Huh, sleeptime over.
Varis took the object, surprised, with a 'thank you'. Biting into the pleasantly light delicacy, Varis used his other hand to wipe his eyes. He could get up, he thought, he was strong enough...
Posted on 2011-05-08 at 04:31:49.
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Topic: Footprints: Part One, Chapter Five
Subject: Trapped! (A flashback)
Varis?
The voice receded, echoing into the darkness.
Varis...we've searched every corner of here.
Varis knew this. This voice, those words. It was DHarem.
They had been locked in. Beyond Tithuana, in an old archeology site. Though it was claimed to have been picked clean of anything long ago, Varis and DHarem had been approached, offered a task as mercenaries for protection, by a man who had claimed to have found the secrets to opening some hidden chamber within the strange ruins.
They never found out their employer's name. Varis had grown suspicious of the 'scholar' as he led them to and into the site, though. His suspicions had led Varis to remain silent about the fact that, as a member of the Caese family, Varis knew full well the histories and findings from a variety of ancient sites, buried forretresses and more, symbols of a war long passed. However, neither he nor DHarem saw what was coming. Led into a chamber opened by some old mechanism, they were locked in from the outside. The chamber was no secret, in truth. While it was a single room that had lockable foot-thick stone door opened mechanically, it had been picked clean like everything else long ago.
The man's idea, DHarem and Varis had agreed, was to starve them to death and take whatever they had afterwards. As mercenaries they wouldn't have been penniless, and there were at least three other skeletons in the room. A serial killer, all as some kind of elaborate robbery that was essentially untraceable, as any story can be made up about missing guards.
It was pitch black, though. They had no torches, but Varis had summoned a small intangible orb of light to see by, somewhat. They'd been in the room for well over an hour, looking for some second way out.
Varis, what do you expect to find? You're too calm for being locked in a pitch-dark room shared by three whom have long starved to death.
DHarem had asked him that. In an even tone, as always...but it was the closest Varis had ever come to sensing fear from the Seeker. Varis himself wasn't particularly prone to giving in to fear himself, but he normally lacked the endless reserves of stability DHarem had.
But the would-be murderer was unfortunate in his most recent targets. Varis had intended not to tell DHarem what he was looking for, earlier. He had merely told the seeker to 'search everywhere'. Being told what to look for narrowed your perceptions.
I know this...my grandfather came here. He'd found that, in one solitary room of this digsite, there was, essentially, a secret passage in a sealed room. What was found within was profitable for the family, as we controlled the trade from a site that was thought to have been emptied of treasures. There are plenty of sealable rooms, so it may not have been this one, but I remember him talking about it...it was the mortar between two stones that was uneven, slightly, and held some small crack to pull out a part of the wall...
Varis had trailed off, deep in thought as he tried to remember. DHarem seemed to understand, and remained quiet.
They found it.
Varis was lucky that day. Both of them were. Lucky that a chance conversation with a grandfather he barely knew allowed Varis to know the key fact that would save them both from a horrible fate. Lucky that they had a light source. Lucky that he had someone strong and agile enough to slip a heavy stone from it's socket in the wall, despite dozens of years of mold and weight that crushed it into a stubbornly unyielding wall.
As the dismantleable wall was taken down piece by piece by DHarem, revealing a passage that led to a few more chambers and a final second exit to the surface, Varis made one last use of his magic in that chamber. He'd written words on the wall that would last for months, glowing. They wrote:
THE UNFORTUNATE LAY HERE, ONCE. WHATEVER THEY WERE IN LIFE, HERO OR VILLAIN; THEY DID NOT DESERVE THE FATE THEY SUFFERED, FALLING TO BETRAYAL. REMEMBER THEM.
Of course, Varis and DHarem had taken the remains of the others outside, wrapping them first in cloth, and buried them. It didn't seem right, to leave them trapped forever in a prison they thought was infallible.
So many whom value coin over loyalty. It disgusted Varis.
They never saw their 'employer' again. A human in his thirties, Tithuanian, but they never found him. He never even returned to the sealed room; they could only assume he had found out about their escape, and daren't risk returning.
Varis very much hoped he would meet that man again. One day. Not for his own sake, but for the unnamed and forgotten.
No, not forgotten. Varis had long been writing a song for them. He was determined it not be forgotten.
Posted on 2011-05-07 at 16:58:17.
Edited on 2011-05-07 at 16:58:54 by Celtia
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Topic: The Scarred Continents
Subject: Reok sees all....
Jack was currently in the process of helping Pity up, the Tiefling leaning on the human's shoulder in inexplicable exhaustion, considering he wasn't truly harmed. The Tiefling's halo that signified his Psionic powers at times had disappeared. Jack, Jark and Pity all stared at the barbarian at his bold statement, though.
Pity was the first, by quite a margin, to respond. And vehemently so.
"What!? You threaten, then me, and now want to be hired? Besides, if - which I doubt - you really are from Pandemonium, just another reason why we wouldn't be interested in hiring some bloodthirsty, hot-headed, barbaric mercenary who's more likely that not to slaugh-"
"That's it!" The yell came from Jack, still propping up Pity, before he proceeded to thump the handle of the miniature warhammer he still carried into the back of the Psion's skull with a carefully calculated amount of force, catching the Tiefling as he was knocked out by the blow. The half-orc looked back with an ill-disguised smile, and mentioned something in orcish to Jack, who nodded and practically carried the tiefling outside the tavern.
Jark turned back to Reok, grinning openly now.
"Thank Sra-Amun for that. If I heard any more from that bastard son of a Fomorian I'd have done so myself. I fear my brother may have to sit through one of Tryean's lecture's for it, though. If he's lucky." Jark's grin turned slightly sheepish, "Admittedly, it may not have been his best idea, considering some of Pity's powerful...friends in this city."
Jark stopped for a moment, bringing out a large handful of gold coins, placing them on the counter beside him. About 8 gold in all; a decent sum.
"That should pay for the damages. Sorry about that, Rhal. Please don't call the paladins, though, we need that Tiefling." Jark said over the counter, as the tavernkeeper finally approached the bar again, thanking his old friend as he scooped up the gold and left, moving into another room assumedly to put away the reimbursement. Jark returned to talking to Reok.
"Ah, where are my manners? I'm Jark. My family name keeps changing, I suppose, but besides my original orcish family name, the only one I have currently would be 'Glint'. Jark Glint, then, if you need my full name. Now before I ask you a few key things, such as what a warrior of spirits is doing knowing of two particular continents that I myself only know of because I've been travelling with a scholar for the past year, I suppose manners dictate I find you some treatment before you collapse." The half-orc continued. As he spoke, Reok took the chance to size up the man.
A couple of inches taller than Reok himself, the Half-Orc stood at just under 6 feet, not an uncommon height for his race. Though apparently fluent in Orcish, his common was perfect; not even a gravelly trace in his voice as expected of an orcish race. Indeed, if it weren't for his unusually leather-like skin, wide nose, pointed ears and slight tusks, there wasn't much to even point out his heritage. Well, and a slightly unusual build, proportionally, in terms of arms and feet.
Wearing a typically cost-effective mix of hardened leather and the occasional plate of steel, the half-orc clearly moved easily in his armor, if he doesn't even remove it while in such a peaceful city. An equally inexpensive wood-and-metal round shield was strapped to his back. He looked like someone who cared more about getting things done than fancy weaponry and armour.
And yet he had a small silver pendant around his neck, showing what looked like a silver shield with several sections divided by gold semi-circular patterns. The gold lines represented distinction of land, of law and of borders. The shield represented protection over attack. Reok knew this, because it was a very common symbol in Arvale, as the entire city was the Holy City to the God the symbol represents. Sra-Amun.
Posted on 2011-05-07 at 15:12:58.
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Topic: The Scarred Continents
Subject: Peace.
Jark lowered his axe, keeping his distance from the barbarian, before speaking in an even tone.
"Forgive me and our...associate. We shall insure you are reimbursed and provide sufficient healing." The half-orc said, frowning as he appeared to think for a moment before clasping his axe to his belt, disarming himself, "I am not here to fight you."
Behind him, the human - Jack's - voice could still be heard, albeit quieter, so the patrons on the other side of the tavern - most of whom were in the process of exiting the building, trying not to look obviously terrified - could not hear what was said.
"Tryaen's not going to let you off the ship if this is your idea of fun, you know. Nor is he going to condone murder."
Posted on 2011-05-07 at 05:05:07.
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Topic: Flux Wars
Subject: Crystal Hardwood
Crystal visibly tensed, but remained silent even at Verkoth's enforcement, Lantaris' smirk and Takra's...advice.
Finally, as Verkoth left the room and Rege' called for drinks, Crystal finally spoke, teeh bared in a cold smile.
"Whatever you have that's strong, and not one that's too heavily flavoured with fruit." Crystal made her order, at least intending to enjoy this unexpected comfort while it lasts. She turned, holding eye contact with a glare, first at Lantaris, then at Takra.
"Lantaris, that was your name? From the symbols of your worship, I can assume the reason for your smirk." Crystal ramarked, inspecting her fingernails with sudden interest, "I suggest you restrain yourself, as I have little patience for your God's barbaric and unreasonable ideals."
"As for you, Takra. It appears we will be travelling together. I've had my share of happiness, until death took that from me. I'll do my share in this war, before death takes me again, more directly. It's as simple as that, so stop assuming and seeing things that aren't there. Now, if you please, Rege', where is that drink? And do be careful with those Greenjade chunks you carry. I prefer my...comrades by association not to blow up next to me the first time a piece of it is shot by a misfortunate arrow or spell."
Posted on 2011-05-07 at 04:48:45.
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Topic: Footprints: Part One, Chapter Five
Subject: The rules of the Diplomat are many...the first was mentioned before, about swords in hands.
Varis' thoughts were going nowhere fast, as his mind began to wander and drift, falling into sleep as Varis just had the energy left to flap a dismissing hand, eyes closing...
Posted on 2011-05-05 at 15:42:51.
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Topic: The Scarred Continents
Subject: Could've gone better....
Pity's smile faltered for a brief second, as prepared as he was, the words of the barbarian froze the younger with unanticipated terror for that split second before he was tackled to the ground, the heavy weight above him knocking his breath out even as he shrieked in pain from his horns being grabbed so violently, the energies playing over the skin of the man magnifying the pain.
Suddenly a blazing halo of golden light appeared between the horns of the Tiefling as, Reok felt some force slam against his chest. Spiritual energies dispersed as some kind of unseen field threw him across the tavern to slam his body into a wall, snapping parts of the wood behind him.
Grunting, Reok fell to the floor, slumped over forward. Suddenly aching bones slowed his attempts to stand up again, though as he looked across the tavern, he saw that the Tiefling - holding a horn with a pained expression as he tried to stand up himself - wasn't doing much better. Most of the Tavern's occupants were now backing away, except for a Half-Orc and a Human by the doorway, whom had drawn a hand-axe and small warhammer respectively.
Pity and Reok finally managed to stand at the same time, already many seconds too late for the barbarian, though, as the Tiefling instantly took advantage, face twisted in some mix of rage and glee as he threw out an arm, light blazing from the halo above him as Reok once again was lifted off his feet, slamming again into the weakened wall. A warmth ran down his back and neck, recognizing some wound at the back of his head and another from his strapped greatsword twisting and slashing the edge of his skin. Blood. His vision began to slow and blur, as if his eyes had given up on focus.
Once again, Reok helplessly fell to the ground, even as the standing Tiefling rose both hands, halo blazing yet again-
-before being tackled yet again, this time from the armed human behind him, screaming all the while at the Tiefling as the Half-Orc approached the wounded barbarian, intention unknowable.
"Have you gone mad, Pity!? Get a hold of yourself before we have to drag you to the Paladins!" The human shouted in the ear of the secondly-grounded Psion, speaking perfect Common, Pity wincing at the screaming.
Posted on 2011-05-05 at 14:31:35.
Edited on 2011-05-05 at 14:38:56 by Celtia
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Topic: Footprints Discussion
Subject: Makes sense.
Hmm, I said "randsom" rather than "random". My apologies for the potentially creepy mistake. I agree with Mysterion, by the way, hear hear!
Posted on 2011-05-04 at 15:46:59.
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Topic: The Scarred Continents
Subject: A Half-Orc, a Tiefling and two humans walk into a room... The tiefling says to a human...
Arvale was unique in so many ways in terms of primarily Human or Draonborn cities. Celestia of the Common Realm, one might say - however innacurately. But there was one thing the City of Paladins had that was near identical to any other city in the Scarred Continents.
It's docklands.
Loud, bustling and unclean, walking through the harbor can be a tiring journey however short the actual distance. One taking such a journey may be forgiven, though, for thinking the men too tired to even stand, lying against a wall, were beggars or homeless of some manner; poor and sickly. Of course, sickly beggars do have a worrying amount in common with sailors too drunk to stand...
And so it was not unusual to have two armed men shouting, laughing and jostling each other as they made their way across the street, ignoring any looks they were given and indeed everyone else in general. What was unusual about this particular duo, though, were a few things. Firstly, the fact that one was a Human and one clearly a Half-Orc. Secondly, both were talking loudly to each other in some form of Orcish, a strange and unusual tongue to hear in the city, and by a Human as well, no less.
Thirdly, they weren't actually drunk yet; something that was soon to be rectified considering their heading towards a tavern they knew so well.
"Buta maruk klamuk, maruk nixda!"
"Omark ikem goshak ba batuk Booz, maruk utash gort mora ouk bota bana ikem, mii Jack!"
The two laughed as if by some joke, with some sense of...kinship? Even brotherhood? In addition, even the casual eye couldn't help but notice the perfectly equal shade of brown in half-orc and human's eyes both, and a nose slightly wide for a human on one side, slightly thin for a half-orc on the other...both near identical as well.
Jack and Jark, Human and Half-Orc, respectively, continued their bantering. Their topic? Fathers, using less than courteous words to describe the other's, such a topic brought about by their recent surprise visit to their shared mother, whom hadn't anticipated that Tryaen Creek's ship would return to Arvale from Silvour before starting the long journey south to Rog.
Oh yes, Jack and Jark were part of the Expedition as hired help, considering their weaponry talents and knowing their way around naval craft.
Another roar of laughter appeared from the older of the half-brothers, the half-orc Jark, in response to a rude suggestion from the human. Finally, they quietened as they approached their local tavern, which they hadn't seen in eight months due to the trip to Silvour and back. They'd been paid well for the trip, and such a run back and forth was profitable for the captain of the ship by shipping across valuable merchandise. Time to spend a bit of their not-so-hard earned coin before the expedition left off again in two weeks.
Jovial smiles were wiped off the face of the brothers, though, as they recognised the sound of a particular crew-member's voice inside the tavern. That Tiefling must have made a beeline for the place, to have gotten there in the time Jack and Jark were visiting their mother.
"Hah, all I'm saying is I'm surprised that I haven't even been gone a year, and suddenly Arvale's filled with yet more savages from probably fictional lands." Yelled the taunting voice of Pity. Jark and Jack looked at each other. Did the tiefling have to pick a fight with every stranger he sees? Give a guy significant Psionic powers, and suddenly he thinks that he's invincible and can say whatever he likes.
A few orcish words were spoken between the two, reckoning with annoyance that they'd better insure that Pity doesn't get his face kicked in, or at least drag the tiefling out of the tavern owned by a friend of theirs. The first was more important, though; the thought of travelling to Rog with one less mage on board was a worrying one, self-obsessed bastard or not.
Jark shook his head as he swung the door open, entering first. Already he could tell that Pity was arguing to the wrong guy, considering the Greatsword strapped to the man's back, and the dangerous gleam in the eyes of the human.
Despite sitting right next to him on the bar, Pity recklessly went on, grinning in some sort of delusional triumph, even as the taverkeeper frowned at the two from across the bar and several patrons turned to see how the foreign human dealt with the seemingly unarmed tiefling whom was certainly baiting him.
"What's the matter, suddenly forgotten how to speak Common? Or have you got something against Tieflings, human? Ooooh, killer eyes, there. I wonder what a Paladin would say if he saw someone like you walking the streets of Arvale."
Posted on 2011-05-04 at 13:11:43.
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Topic: Footprints Discussion
Subject: If she doesn't arrive...
Hmm, still at a standstill, lacking gamergirld20?
You may have to take over her character temporarily. I don't know whether she's tired of this site, or has a broken computer or whatever the case may be, but she hasn't replied to anything I've sent her (in regards to my own game) for weeks, and I've had to demote her character to an NPC for now, more or less.
Though just to be on the safe side, since I know he's waiting but...
(Yells loudly down a randsom corridor) Oy! Mysterion! You still there? Just making sure you haven't come to some horrible fate.
Posted on 2011-05-04 at 11:43:29.
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Topic: Footprints: Part One, Chapter Five
Subject: Third rule of the Diplomat.
"Yes...yes...thank you." The relief was dizzying, yet Varis suddenly felt tireder than ever. His head swam.
"Just...leave the food. I think I'm going to sleep for longer, yes...thank you." Varis distractedly mentioned, eyelids feeling like they were coated with heavy ferrum...Third rule of the Diplomat, though; no matter how bad or distracted you're feeling, always thank whomever you're talking to at the time copiously. Helps to avoid causing offense.
Posted on 2011-05-04 at 11:39:19.
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Topic: The Scarred Continents
Subject: Time Passes...
19/5/198 AW, or the 19th Day of Asten, Year 198 After the War. Four months and Four days since leaving the continent of Silvour.
The City of Arvale, The Western Continent.
Jenra's gaze swept over the sight before her, shocked. She had heard of the city of Arvale, certainly many in the crew had spoken at length of it, but she had relied too heavily upon the Common Races' tendency to exaggerate.
Stretching from one side of the great expanse of the great bay to the other, the ship was now perfectly situated to see the city at all corners as it drifted through the busy waters. The city stretched for dozens of miles, leagues, signficantly larger even than cities in the Feywild or Astral Sea, in many cases, normally an impossible feat for the Common Realm due to the prevalence of disease and sickness as well as the Common Races' vulnerability to such, and the speed in which they cause and spread it.
Tryaen Creek, the scholar and head of this expedition, had spoken with her - at length of course - about the famous city. It is home to some of the few remaining survivors of the God Wars in the Common Realm, an even that occurred almost two-hundred years ago, as well as the First Angel of the God Sra-Amun. Indeed, the entire city is built in his name, and is the center for his worship, as it grew en masse from the town in which both Sra-Amun was born as a mortal Dragonborn, and where he ultimately ascended to Godhood.
'The city of safety, of comfort, of joy and health' were Tryaen's praise of the city which he called home. Talking amongst the crew Jenra had gotten to know in the past four months - the first leg of her journey, and not a significant amount of time for an Eladrin - she had heard differing accounts on the city.
It was a city that promoted tolerance, and it's incredible population kept in health by one of the largest orders of Clerics in the Scarred Continents. It's defense force was more civilian in nature, taking care of legal matters, but Arvale's true power lay in its Paladins. Such numbers of Paladins and Clerics would drive the bravest of the cruel and evil away, though Arvale was not infallible.
Jenra went over all that she had learnt beforehand, looking around at this amazing city, noticing the two great towers of the city. If she recalled correctly, one was named "Bahamut's Rest", built on the site of an old great temple to the Dragon-God Bahamut and the residence of the First Angel. The other tower was simply a part of Sra-Amun's Great Temple, based upon where he entered and left the world as a mortal, residing there was the High Priest of Sra-Amun, a beloved Daeva veteran of the God Wars known as 'Devoted' by name.
"With any luck, we'll only be here for a week, tops. What in Actalieus' name is Tryaen getting at, spending half a year dragging me half way across the realm and then the cheek to drag me back again to where we started?" Snarled a tiefling who arrived to lean on the wooden rails of the deck beside the Eladrin. Jenra had avoided him whenever possible; the more she spoke to him the less she liked him.
The tiefling, a young twenty year old, went by the name of "Pity Fortune". A powerful Psion, and apparent friend or acquantance with Tryaen Creek since long before the actual expedition started, Pity was the only accomplished Mage of any sort on board before Jenra was hired. Rude, selfish and critical; if the arrogant Psion had any particular redeeming features, the Eladrin had yet to see them. Tryaen appeared to trust him, though.
Jenra grimaced inwardly, before replying calmly to the Tiefling. If they're going to be on the same ship together for another year at least, then she's going to have to get to know him at some point. May as well make conversation.
"I'm sure he has his reasons, and Wyrepynn's been agitated for most of the trip anyway, this might be a chance for him to let off some energy." Jenra replied quietly, mentioning the name of the Gnome on board the ship, another youth-an orphan-that Tryaen had picked up not all that long before Jenra herself, meeting him in Silvour.
"You think so, huh? He shouldn't have come if he didn't like travelling over the sea for long periods of time." Pity stated coldly, spitting over the edge of the ship. Jenra frowned, stopping herself from pointing out that the same could be said for him.
Jenra hoped they docked soon, or she found some excuse to politely leave the side of the incourteous Tiefling...
Posted on 2011-05-03 at 15:12:46.
Edited on 2011-07-09 at 17:49:31 by Celtia
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Topic: Footprints: Part One, Chapter Five
Subject: Ughhhhhhh....Varis sleepy...
Varis was in no mood to chat. The bed was comfortable, but something still lay within him, leaving him dangerously uneasy...he wasn't sure what it was...
"Thank you. How long have I been here? What of the councillor?" Varis made out with a dry throat, hoping that he could fall back to sleep soon, and hoping that what he assumed he did to himself for his charge worked.
Posted on 2011-05-03 at 12:38:05.
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Topic: Footprints: Part One, Chapter Five
Subject: Trippy...
Varis panicked. He was falling, drawn into a hole in the floor. No, not the floor. It was there, it's not anymore. It's inside him, he's falling into himself.
Colours flashing. Dizzying. Disorientating. A solitary limb in an endless expanse.
A full tavern, all faces within turning to a newcomer, each the face of someone dead, flesh hanging off skeletons like rags. The music-oh the music-so hauntingly terrifying.
A mix, a blend of shapes and meaning. Thump, thump. A heartbeat in the dark, a heartbeat slowing, slowing, slowing...even as another one starts, quickening, quickening. Two beats between each other, one growing faster, more powerful, alive once more. One fading, forgotten in the endless dark.
Forgotten, but still there. A sudden light illuminates the heart, it's beat, starting it again as everything else dimmed...
-------
Black. Eyelids. Varis was looking at his eyelids. Opening them slowly, cautiously, he saw the panels of wood on a roof above him. He was...dreaming, or...something. He couldn't remember, just a thudding in his ears, that was his only remnant of the dream.
Varis breathed in, ignoring the unpleasant feel of the slime coating of his mouth. Twisting a sore neck, there were beds of wood and cloth to either side. His vision was a bit blurry, he couldn't make much out...
Dismissing his surroundings as unimportant, Varis leant back onto a remarkably soft, comfortable pillow, closing his eyes and trying to remember what had occured. Throwing every bit of magic he could summon desperately into the body beneath him, feeling-or imagining-the feel of a pulse on the body beneath him before a wave of white pain slammed into Varis, and all he saw was darkness.
Overall, the job didn't exactly go well. He had an idea what was happening now, though, but only one way to find out.
"Where am I?" Varis spoke as loud as he could force himself without opening his eyes, hoping someone would hear and reply.
But even as he spoke, there was a strange feeling. Of something being very...out of place. Wrong. Like...hearing sounds, cries and music from inside a tavern, and opening the door to join the festivities inside only to find it entirely empty, deserted.
Posted on 2011-04-30 at 16:45:11.
Edited on 2011-04-30 at 16:48:10 by Celtia
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Topic: Flux Wars
Subject: I sense a lack of geniune authority, here.
As the rooms were sealed, the deal discussed, Crystal abandoned the comfortable seat that she had taken upon arrival only seconds earlier. Distractedly, she went over to a window, magic having formed an impenetrable fog within the glass that made her uneasy. She payed attention to mere snippets, most of her attention taken as she thought over something Verkoth had said that had caused her to stand and move so rapidly.
"-a section commander in Orsal's counter-espionage branch. We have been tracking a-"
Crystal closed her eyes, thinking deeply as various members of the strange crowd spoke. Finally that elf, the newcomer who had sat with the warrior beforehand, spoke his piece and a temporary break in the conversation was created.
Without turning around, Crystal spoke. She spoke too quietly to hear easily under normal circumstances, but a breeze suddenly swam around the room, carrying her voice well and appearing to emit from her own body, magically.
"Section-Commander. You may have to forgive me, but I fear such an endeavor holds little interest to me, and I am not going to submit to any office that does not include the Green Circle or the Valsavatharian military. I am a warmage, not a spy. More importantly; clearly you don't know who I am, for otherwise I doubt you'd place this trust with me."
Crystal spoke politely. Whether it was because of the status of whom she spoke to, or a continued apparent change of character, it was impossible to tell.
She was glad she'd had that drink, though. It made her feel safer than she had a right to be, being in a room with a Counter-Espionage Commander and several elven warriors or mages to some length or another. No confirmed member of a directly allied military in sight; who knows with these Espionage forces where they stand.
"This, after all, may be something you should have taken up with my superiors beforehand, perhaps? Warmages are not mercenaries to be hired. Now, may I leave this room, Section-Commander Verkoth? I believe I have had my fill of liquids and comfort for the day." Crystal finished, glad that the room had let her speak her piece. She turned from the window, looking directly yet expressionlessly at Verkoth.
Any 'investigative' or 'espionage' force only bring trouble, after all. They rarely find success, they're easy to deceive and are impossible to trust.
Posted on 2011-04-30 at 16:30:06.
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Topic: Flux Wars: Dramatis Personae
Subject: Sorry to say, but...
I came upon this by chance...I fear you need some way of letting all three of us players know when new topics like this are introduced. I am having a lot of trouble remembering, knowing and keeping up with the threads for this game. I think there's about 5,6 or 7, now.
Posted on 2011-04-30 at 16:03:36.
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Topic: Flux Wars
Subject: So many elves. I count...four.
As Takra finished her calls, an icy silence fell on the table. Crystal did not look up from her cup, merely taking another sip. As the elf's burst of confidence fell after calling out to the other, stuttering, elf, Crystal's eyes finally looked up, a cold, emotionless stare at Takra.
Then...a smile. Not one with much warmth within, true, but a smile. One that showed off an impressive array of teeth.
"Hah. So you were a mage after all. Interesting... Well, Takra, you make a fair point, and you're more direct than many elves I've seen. Maybe you'll be one of those to survive this war, when it actually happens."
A glimmer passed across the human's eyes in a heartbeat... Crystal's eyes widened, before being shut an instant later, held down by a frown caused by a sudden contraction in her face, as if resisting some unbearable pain, or at least a particularly sour taste. For a second it seemed as if the Valsavatharian was to either yell or gasp as she hunched down, before suddenly instead throwing her head back, quickly swallowing two large mouthfuls of her drink, finally finishing it, bringing the cup down with a 'bang' on the wood.
"Yes...yes..." Crystal spoke slowly, her words slightly slurred, eyes half-lidded as if not concentrating, as if on some other level, some memory or thought that was taking all of her attention. Her eyes opened once more when she heard a new voice directed at her.
"-ladies might wish to accompany me to the salon...I expect you can pass this one off as your apprentice, Journeymage."
Crystal looked up at the male, eyes widened in surprise more than anything else now, whatever phase the mage was in passed. Looking around the Tavern full of off-duty soldiers, most of them drunk and yelling, Crystal stood up suddenly, her fur cloak draped over one arm, unworn, and her staff in the other. Her empty cup left abandoned on the table,
"Yes, I expect so. Thank you for such an offer...'Rege." Crstal's voice held the same apparent kindness that first greeted Takra, as if it came from a different person, almost.
Posted on 2011-04-29 at 18:20:21.
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Topic: Flux Wars
Subject: Crystal Ha-Wait, do we have to start each post with our names?
Crystal smirked at the elf, her short-lived friendliness dissapating as quickly as it had arrived.
"Takra? Takra the elf. Well, no surprise you're from a small Senan village. I was under the impression ALL villages in Sena are small." The human coldly stated, taking yet another sip of her drink, "Since you're asking, I'm from Valsavathar. The ice lands to the North-West of your home, in case you don't know, elf."
Another delicate sip of the drink.
"The symbol clasped to the front of my clothes and emblazoned on my staff is the symbol of the Green Circle. You may have heard of the Green Circle as among the most powerful mages for leagues, certainly able to best either of your Senan Orange or Magenta Magic Circles." Was Crystal's rude reply.
Another sip of her drink, and she continued.
"Weather and Nature magics. Pah. I hate being seen as a mage, I wouldn't ever wear my robe or this ugly symbol if I wasn't ordered. I'm a Warmage, with talents in Ice Magic."
Yet another sip of her drink, and the mage sat back, head turning to see the other newcomer heading towards the other table.
"Crystal Hardwood, by the way. My name. Remember it, I don't have the patience to tell people twice. Don't believe the rumors; you'll find me a warm, kindly soul after I've had another drink. Perhaps."
Posted on 2011-04-29 at 07:42:08.
Edited on 2011-04-29 at 07:44:07 by Celtia
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Topic: Flux Wars
Subject: Crystal Hardwood
The human looked up from her drink, cold, keen eyes staring at the lithe woman that approached her. An elf, likely. Typical.
Crystal was about to sneer at the newcomer. She'd already made an effort to get a table by herself and she planned to *enjoy* it while she had the chance. She would have thought the newcomer would have had the sense to leave the Valsavatharian alone.
"Greetings, may I sit with you the rest of the crowd don't seem quite as...appealing.”
Suddenly the Ice Mage held the sneer from her face, her features transforming in an eyeblink at something the newcomer had said. A kind, welcoming face greeted Takra as Crystal motioned towards an empty chair.
"Ah, of course; feel free to sit down. I understand your feelings. Don't worry, the men have learnt not to try anything around me." The mage remarked off-handedly, swishing her liqour around her mug experimentally. The mage's eyes locked with Takra's suddenly.
"In fact," the mage's eyes suddenly glimmered dangerously, but not intimidatingly, "if any of them give you any trouble, I'll take care of it. Just point them to me. Now if that bartender's free round of drinks for finding a seat include one for myself, then I'd be appreciative if you sat down before I finish my own."
Having finished her friendly advice, the mage returned to staring at the remarkably pure alcohol in her cup, delicately sipping it even as she examined a pale-skinned hand of her own, the skin a mark of her Valsavatharian heritage, briefly wondering what it would be like to live with less than five fingers, a punishment she had inflicted before.
Posted on 2011-04-28 at 10:12:30.
Edited on 2011-04-28 at 10:13:30 by Celtia
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Topic: Footprints Discussion
Subject: Guess who's back...(Back Again...)
Well, just saying that I'm back! ^^'
Currently my own adventure that I tried to start is still at a standstill after two weeks, waiting for Gamergirld20, too. But at least I can continue here when my character wakes. ^^'
Posted on 2011-04-28 at 09:46:44.
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Topic: Angel of Death
Subject: Welcome from me too.
Welcome Azrael! Keep up the good work, get all the rest you need, and have a happy fulfilling life with flirt, you hear?
You both deserve it. ^^
Posted on 2011-04-27 at 19:47:48.
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Topic: Footprints Discussion
Subject: A note.
Well, I'm glad Varis is far from awake, and I expect, after channeling something enough to restart someone's heart that had been run through with a sword, that he may be out for some time.
Convinient, since I'm afraid, starting in a couple of days' time, I'll be away for a week, and unable to access the Internet. So sorry guys, but Varis may be comatose for a while, or else recovering, or someone else taking control of him, or whatnot.
Just making the notice. Sorry in advance for my inability to post.
Posted on 2011-04-17 at 09:19:03.
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