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Post by Lev on Jan 12, 2016 20:21:34 GMT
[Occurs AFTER thread with Timore: We Cheat Death]
“She hasn’t been responding to my calls. I’ve tried to listen through the door, Divines forgive me, but nothing stirs. It was only out of concern, I swear. It-”
“It’s alright, Sera,” Neala interrupted with a quieting gesture. “I’m sure everything is fine.”
“You would know best, I suppose, but I cannot shake the feeling. What if something has happened to The Lady?”
“If that was truly your worry then I’d be concerned that you waited this long to fetch me,” Neala teased, unmoved by the maid’s paranoia.
“Don’t taunt me so, ma’am,” the fidgety girl whined, pulling at the tips of her hair as they approached the large double doors of Theolandra’s chambers. “I’d be condemned for sure if’at were true!”
“Wait here,” Neala said. She placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s lean shoulder. “I’ll return in a moment and prove to you that your fears are unfounded.”
Neala stepped into the room after a firm knock, the echoes of her approach vanishing into the space before the doors shut behind her. The scene was dim. Heavy curtains were still half drawn across the windows as if untouched from the night before, and only a few hardy rays of sunlight had broken through to paint brilliant beams across the darkness. Particles shifted in and out of the light. It was like a stale air and heavy dust had settled, disturbed by the attendee’s uninvited movement. It was unsettling to see the room so dark..If she squinted, Neala could see her queen lying motionless across the bed, uncovered by the downy quilts or furs that decorated it. The thin, glittery veils of her canopy were also tied back. The dark-skinned girl swallowed slowly, subduing the inkling of concern that was building in her gut.
“Milady,” she greeted, barely catching the tremor in her voice. “It’s quite late. I believe you’ve overslept.”
Theolandra didn’t move, not even a flinch. Her only response was the silent rise and fall of steady breathing. Neala quickened her step and pulled back the curtains, eager to see some sort of movement that would calm her growing suspicions. There was still no response from the queen. She must be overworked, Neala thought. Sleeping heavily is not a crime for someone who works as hard as she. I’ll just have to wake her myself.
She took a seat next to the sleeping form and called out, “Lady Theolandra. Forgive my rudeness, but your presence is needed.” Gently, she shook the god-child’s arm, feeling uncomfortably invasive.. as if she were defiling some sort of relic. Nothing.
A good time and numerous attempts passed to no avail when a nervous knocking interrupted Neala’s hushed pleas to the comatose queen. Sera’s muffled speech pushed through from the other side, but the fierce thumping in Neala’s ears could hardly make out the words.
A few moment later Neala emerged from the royal chambers trying to look as calm as possible. Sera, ever-fearful, stiffened under the foreboding feeling that seemed to leak through the doors with her superior. “Sera,” Neala began slowly.
“Y-yes, ma’am?”
“Don’t panic.”
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 13, 2016 2:29:40 GMT
Fear. Discord. Weakness.
The wraith of a queen loved them all. The signals of a broken soul, flags marking territory for the forgotten regent to conquer. This was how she lived, drifting on from one shattered host to the next, leaving nothing but husks in her wake. It was a cursed life, a life a-wrack with torments, but it was infinitely better than the nothingness of limbo. A cursed life is better than no life at all. And with every victim she drained, her weakened powers grew stronger, bestowing the hope that one day, she would reassert the strength she had once held. True telling of power, a strong being inhabited this home, as the queen could determine from the ripples in the ether. Strong willed enough to have hidden an earlier presence, but for now the being's mind seemed preoccupied. Definitely a lowered guard enough to gain scope on its capacity.
Down the hall the mass of shadows prowled, melding with penumbras cast by furniture and armaments alongside. Voices caught her attention, voices talking in earnest haste, their words laced with the delectable aroma of forsaken hope. One was still in resolute firmness, but the other... the other was broken enough already. A tiny mouse in a cage of cats, her heart aflutter and her mind in turmoil. A child in abandon. All lost children were friends to the fallen queen, their timid, little hearts quaint stepping stones in her ongoing quest for redemption. The two speakers soon came into vision, both the pusillanimous youth and her stronger compatriot. Quick as a crow taking to wing, the phantom leaped from its place on the wall into the body of the girl.
Oh no oh Divines the queen is panicked stream of consciousness, having just heard the news of... oh? The ruler of this realm... predisposed? Was this the powerful mass of energy the nameless regent sensed before? what is this feeling not fear I'm not so the little girl felt her presence. They often did, when the sorceress began rooting around in unprotected thoughts and feelings, tugging on the soul-strings of the pitiful shells. Get out stop get No. Not even time to cry for help, not even time to react, all over in a fraction of a second. It was all the time the dark queen needed to crack such a fragile spirit. No, little child. You're mine now. The girl's eyes became her own, and her body with it. Just as color filled the newly stolen vision, a wave of black consumed it, tied in with a weakness all over the acquired body. A last fight against the hostile takeover.
Sera stumbled with a gasp.
"I... I'm sorry, ma'am! Everything... it just overwhelms me..." the child said with quivering voice, laced with a bit of persuasive ether for good measure. Morgne was not one to take risks.
And if I play this right... if I choose my paths with wisdom and foresight... the Empire of the Elohim will rise again. Praise be to Estia and the moon, we shall conquer.
Suppressing the internal cries of the terrified, stolen child, Morgne savored the warmth spreading through her limbs. It was good to be mortal again.
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#ed1717
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Sept 9, 2017 19:51:41 GMT
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Lev
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Post by Lev on Jan 14, 2016 2:41:24 GMT
"I... I'm sorry, ma'am! Everything... it just overwhelms me." Sera stumbled and gripped the attendee's arm for support, and Neala, hers.
Neala wasn't surprised at all that the fragile-minded handmaid was already losing her composure. But there was not time to sit and worry. The queen had to be tended to immediately, and the cause for her comatose state needed to be kept quite for as long as possible. It was obvious that Neala would have to be the fetch the proper individuals. Granted, the situation was cause for alarm, but Sera's frazzled explanations would only cause confused hysteria. Too much was unknown to start a panic, and Theolandra would be disappointed if her right hand let hearsay control the room.
"Sera, listen to me," Neala said sternly. "You will stay here. You will say nothing until I return, understand?" She paused, giving her orders time to sink in. "I'm going to find help for Lady Theolandra, and you're going to clean her room as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Go on." A firm nudge guided Sera into the queen's chambers. Neala promptly shut her in.
With her back flat against the wooden doors, the nervous attendee gave her heart a moment of pause. One deep breath in through her nose, and then out from her thick lips. Nerves and mild nausea subdued, she started for the Surrogate Wing. Beside herself they - as a collective - were the next authority in Lady Theolandra's absence. A courier would also be sent to the captain of the guard. Foul play wasn't a suspicion at the moment, but it wouldn't hurt to cover all of the bases. The thought made Neala want to cry and vomit together. She quickened her pace in response, as if to outrace the sickening feeling.
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
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Post by blacknoise on Jan 14, 2016 4:22:19 GMT
A single, humanoid monster pulled itself through the the hallways of the palace. There would be no raising of the alarm, not yet, for none had seen it enter. Every guard that encountered it was tossed aside like a paperweight, knocking them cold or killing them if thrown hard enough. It made its way towards the queen's chamber after the other woman had already left. Whether by luck or pure chance, it knocked on the door ever so politely before pushing it open. Visible to the young woman inside, the horrifying being possessed the feet of a monstrous crow, his twitching hands were webbed, his fingers were as sinister hook claws, and his face was nothing more than a maw of teeth. His entire being twisted in what seemed to be a sick grin as it spoke in a guttural, painful growl.
"The queen is dead, long live the night."
Slowly, it began making its way towards the bed. Broken chains hung from his wrists and feet, and he laughed quietly as he approached the woman. Reaching a clawed hand up towards his shoulder, the monster absentmindedly tore at his own shoulder, digging deeply into the flesh. As he did so, he spoke once more.
"But you don't really care, do you?"
Unbeknownst to those inside the Queen's chambers, dozens more of the monsters began emerging from the sewer, seeking out flesh to rip apart. While a few spread out, most headed directly towards the Surrogate Wing with the intent to kill. As if driven by an unknown force, blessed with demonic strength, the beasts were both intelligent and deadly. The surrogates and guards would be preoccupied with more than just the servant to the Queen who was to occupy them with words and questions.
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 14, 2016 5:25:00 GMT
"Yes, ma'am," Morgne replied, hurrying back the way the two girls had come from. The idiotic woman hadn't even noticed the change, let alone the symptoms it bestowed. So naive, the innocent and frightened, so prone to ignore the subtleties around them. It was pathetic. Chuckling to herself softly, she entered in the lavish chamber. The whole room was dampened by a somber sense of malaise, and awash with the waves of power Morgne had first detected, all seeming to originate from a curtained four-poster nearby. Cautiously, the sorceress approached, her body tingling with the energy stolen from her new host. She was pleased to see it no longer protested, though it still felt tainted by the constant, droning fear.
"Hello?" the nameless queen called out. When no voice responded, she drew back the heavy curtain, and gazed upon the body of the source. It was beautiful. Or, she was, to be precise. A young queen resting quietly amidst pristine sheets, her hair cascading about in chaotic waves of somnolence. Tentatively, the fae-blood reached out with a tendril of ether, only to be met with a wall of searing willpower. She yelped in surprise. The pain quickly dying down, Morgne spoke again, more for her own need than for the need of the sleeper to hear.
"Well, then. Aren't you the curious one?" she intoned softly, brushing a strand of hair away from the flickering eyelids. Gaining courage, the sorceress lifted one of the flaps, her own black orbs investigating the depths of the frozen lakes. "Very curious. You are not dead, yet your mind lies idle. Not asleep, but not... not quite comatose, no. You still hold will and spirit in you. What is wrong with you?"
A momentary panic struck the woman, locking her muscles tight with apprehension. The malaise was not coming from this conscious-forsaken body. The power was, for certain, but the malaise was a power in and of itself. It seemed to be stronger, now, as if whatever caused it was growing stronger... or growing closer. Then something knocked.
"The queen is dead, long live the night."
The raspy under-breath, accompanied by laughter, was born from somewhere near the door. Not one of the castle workers, for sure, as no sound and words as those could ever come from a normal human throat. No, their meaning implied something much more sinister. Morgne turned to greet her visitor in stare, a massive creature contorted with monstrous corvosity. It approached, all the while maiming itself with jagged claws, its laborious journey beset with memories of the crippled and misfortuned. This was a beast of nightmares, a freak of reality itself, hellbent on some unknown mission to usurp this kingdom's regency... and Morgne had unconsciously caught herself in the centerfold. Then its wretched voice graced her ears again, curdling the blood with its vile malsonorousness.
"But you don't really care, do you?"
Morgne laughed herself. Whether it be an astute divination or bestial assumption, the result was the same, and the answer just as factual.
"No. No, foul creature, I do not care. That is quite true." The queen took a step towards the abomination, closing the distance even further. Her eyes took on a milky hue as she gave into the ether at her core. "But as for the queen being dead, if this is the queen of which you speak, she is far from dead. And if you believe to amend that.."
The power from this queen was tremendous, and the power of this crow-thing pitiful in comparison. Morgne could easily hold her own against it, and the saved ruler would doubtless prove a better ally in the end. Frosty lights danced across the sorceress' fingers. Weak lights in comparison to past results, for certain, but strong enough.
"...if you believe to amend that, I'm afraid you are sorely mistaken."
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
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Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
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Post by blacknoise on Jan 14, 2016 6:35:26 GMT
It was the beast's turn to laugh, now. Holding out its arms, chains rattling together as he did so, it spoke again.
"Is she, though? Death is but a sleep from which you do not wake. The queen has fallen asleep, and asleep she shall stay. She belongs to Timore me now."
The two words of 'Timore' and 'me' seemed to come forth as one. For a split second, the beast held two voices, and as soon as it came, it departed. Possessing no eyes, it 'saw' through a small seed of residual power that reached out and probed all around. It 'watched' the woman as she drew upon her strength, and laughed at her quickness to violence. When it paughed, its entire body shook with a rattling wheeze that sounded similar to a death rattle. It was a perpetural, disturbing sound without reason.
Raising a single claw, it pointed to Morgne and continued.
"Do you always seek violence so quickly? Begone, foolish one, We I have no time for you. You are nothing but a pawn seeking to thrust herself back into this turbulent game of thrones. But a pawn, disposed or not, can never be anything more than a pawn."
At that, it turned towards the door. Unless spoken to, for it held the politeness to listen, the beast would leave.
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Post by Guest on Jan 14, 2016 18:36:04 GMT
Willem was never meant for an office. But as fate would have it he managed to find one for himself. It had a desk with a plaque, bookshelves full of papers and journals he had never read, and an expertly tufted leather chair that didn't belong to him. The fancy seat was left behind as a gift by the previous guard captain. Age and the lackluster comfort of peacetime left the former leader with nothing but a small excitement for petty treasures. Willem was close with his superior, which he'd never regret but sometimes found himself cursing.. their small talk and camaraderie is what caused Captain Fedup to abandon his station and leave its responsibilities to the young man. Isn't that just the way? Too late to complain now. There were duties to be handled, and one of them was sitting across the way.
"You're interested in joining the Academy?" Stating the obvious there, Willem. Impressive start. "Akarus, your name was? Well, the Academy is always ready to recruit willing and helpful souls to serve the people - foreign or not," he continued. It was obvious that the boy wasn't from Etirath. His face was unfamiliar and skin was too tan for a longtime mountain-dweller. "I warn you. This is not a band of thugs and louts looking to throw their power around," he explained as he stood. "You have no power. You'll be at the mercy of our Lady Theolandra and her people, nothing more."
A winded messenger wheezed into the office before the potential knight had a chance to respond. His message was delivered after the sweat beading on his brow was wiped away.
"Right Hand, Keeper Neala Pledge, requires your-.. your presence at the palace," the courier advised. The he added, "without wait."
Willem nodded the messenger away then sighed. "Well, it looks like you'll be learning sooner rather than later." He started for the door, grabbing his sword that was leaning on the desk. "Come with me, sir Akarus. Consider this your orientation."
A short jog later the two stood at the entrance of the palace. They were escorted to the Surrogate Wing. From a distance Willem could hear the sound of discord, and a sense of approaching chaos settled over the halls. Was that the sound of swords? Where they going into battle? A battle, indeed. Around the corner were three castle guards trying their hardest to fend off monstrous creatures.
"Help, Captain! They cannot reach the surrogates!" The men shouted through the grunts of combat.
"You heard them," Willem shouted to Akarus. "Move!" And then he sprung forward with his blade crashing downward into one of the horrendous creature's backs.
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
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annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 15, 2016 2:48:11 GMT
Eerily, the power welling from this beast seemed to grow yet again, Morgne's body tensing at it's timidous waves. It seemed imposing, almost invasive in the way it filled her body, making her wish for once the empathy she bandied had an off switch. Grimacing, the sorceress ignored the pressing tide, focusing on hiding any weakness her derisory new vessel lent. The beast seemed unperturbed by her display of power, showing its evident mirth in an cantankerous cacophony.
"Is she, though? Death is but a sleep from which you do not wake. The queen has fallen asleep, and asleep she shall stay. She belongs to Timore me now."
Such bold words from such a hideous visage! And much more intriguing was its split in speech, almost as if... almost as if... the pieces fell in place in Morgne's mind with alarming rapidity. The still-welling energy, the surrogate echo in voice denoting both the self and something else... this beast was not alone. And perhaps this Timore was in the castle. And perhaps this Timore was approaching. The fae-blood's previous decision to cater to the comatose queen was detriment in light of this revelation, tied in with the overwhelming energy in turn from the unobserved source. Whoever he was, Timore was powerful. This corvosity of spite had to be some sort of envoy or servant, acting in lieu while the master did darker deeds.
"Do you always seek violence so quickly? Begone, foolish one, We I have no time for you. You are nothing but a pawn seeking to thrust herself back into this turbulent game of thrones. But a pawn, disposed or not, can never be anything more than a pawn."
Another revelation, in turn at the hands of the creature's commentary. She had jumped to violence too soon. This was what became of the nameless queen's legacy, a fast-to-flame ghost in a child shell? Ire had no place here.
"Wait," she called to the departing monster. "I am no pawn, and I doubt your master is either. No, not pawns, but instead the hands that move them... is that right? And hands... hands come in pairs."
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
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Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
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Post by blacknoise on Jan 15, 2016 13:42:26 GMT
A few of the monsters had already fallen, at great expense to the guard's numbers. As the blade of Captain Williem bit deeply into the back of one of the beasts, it would be apparent as to why. Completely ignoring the blade buried half an inch into its spine, the monster grinned sickly and flung its arm back, seeking to rake claws across the flesh of the Captain. Within seconds, another guard was overwhelmed as the monsters swarmed him and began pounding the man into a pulp.
Inhuman strength possessed these animals, and when they connected hits they dented armor and bashed bodies away like paperweights. The overwhelmed man would be a literal pulp in seconds if there was not significant intervention. With every move and every wound, the monsters only seemed to grow in strength. Pain and injuries, even those that would kill a mortal man, seemed to only fuel them. Blood oozed from every oriface and from every wound, pooling on the ground til it could not be avoided.
But dead monsters across the floor spoke to the fact that they could be killed. So the fighting continued.
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The monster inside Theolandra's palace stopped, listening to the girl attempt to put her emotions into words. Without warning, it laughed uproarously and slapped both hands onto its own head. Pulling, yanking, it slowly broke its own neck with a sickening crack.
As the beast fell to the ground, before his body even had the chance to hit and rest, a dark, vile smoke poured forth from the maw-like cavity on his face. Once the body had fully relaxed upon the ground, a new form had emerged from the corpse. The heavy, black smoke merged and formed a faceless humanoid. Timore, and yet not, crooked his head and spoke. His voice was highly unpleasant to listen to, a deep, crackling, grating voice that seemed to dig into the skin with every word.
"And what, pray tell, do you have to offer me?"
While most would not understand the difference, as the same sickening aura that Timore gave off also emanated from this monster. However, Morgne, if she could focus through the fear, would be able to tell that this was not the main body. It was small, a seed, a surrogate that spoke with the voice of the Lord of Fear, but was not him.
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 15, 2016 20:35:16 GMT
The ugly beast clutched its skull in both its unguised hands and twisted it, the snap echoing around the chamber. Its body fell as quickly as Morgne's heartbeat rose. There had to be an explanation for these unexpected actions, some logical premise, some reason other than the obvious attempt to terrify the steadfast (wavering resolve) sorceress, because what creature lived only to frighten to the point of such horrendous self-destruction? It was inconceivable, completely against any natural law... the racing thoughts slowed as a mist parted ways with the collapsing corpse, congealing into the form of a blank, mannequin-like image.
"And what, pray tell, do you have to offer me?"
Through her inexplicable disgust and terror, the nameless queen still owned the will to uphold her stoic image. Forcing down a blanch as she opened her mouth, she responded to the form.
"I am... I am powerful, as you may tell. I am old, and know many things. I am a master of the auratic arts, a speaker to the hearts of men, and a chosen vessel of my goddess," she slowly replied, trying her best to sound dignified. She felt no desire to weave a mesmer into her words this time, though... both from her intense concentration on staying calm, and out of suspicion it would not affect the apparition. And it was indeed an apparition, the sorceress could tell, merely another stalemate to the source. She wanted to impose, call out the being on hiding behind walls, if not for the doubt that she could stand its full presence.
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Jan 17, 2019 22:10:26 GMT
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blacknoise
I don't have kik.
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Aug 14, 2015 15:19:56 GMT
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Post by blacknoise on Jan 17, 2016 20:51:15 GMT
I am already powerful.
I am far older.
Auramancy is of no consequence to me.
But.
The shadow, for truly that was all it was, pondered the woman's words for a moment. As he crooked his head, as if listening to an unseen force, he turned back and nodded to the woman. A grey, light smoke pulled forth from beneath the door behind the shadow. The sickening, gut wrenching, skin chilling fear expanded tenfold almost immediately. The feelings that the monster caused expanded so greatly, so quickly, that it could almost be mistaken for power.
However, there was no power. As the beast joined with the smoke underneath the door, gained height, and straightened his back, the power that the Shadow emanated completely disappeared. Standing before Morgne, Timore took center stage. His power hidden and suppressed purposefully in order to not be sensed by any other mages or spirits in the building, Timore greeted the woman.
"Indeed, you are, I remember you. But the world has changed, the magic of this new world is greater than the magic of your old one. Surely, you have felt it. Brute force and unparalleled acts of cruelty worked a long time ago, but no longer. Now, we play a game of thrones where war is the last resort, not the first.
You say you are a speaker to the hearts of men, if this is so then you interest me. I am in need of one with an, open ear, to take control of this Kingdom. Therefore, I offer you a pact. You will accept my mark, and not only will I give you power, but I will grant one wish. Meet me at the Waters of the World if you plan on accepting my offer, and think long and hard about your wish."
With a laugh comparable to nails dragging across the steel bowl,, Timore disappeared.
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Aze
Commoner
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Aug 14, 2015 22:16:44 GMT
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Post by Aze on Jan 19, 2016 3:06:33 GMT
Tim had noticed sounds of combat, coming from the palace as he took his normal route throughout the city. 'Something isn't right', he thought as rushes toward the gates, sword at the ready and shield in hand. The sight he his eyes had seen wasn't a pleasant one. Quickly looking through the crowd he had quickly seen those who needed assistance quickly. His irises glowing as orbs of holy fire, three in total began to form, a large sun - shaped rune forming across the area. The energy, hopefully enough, would allow those still alive a greater fighting chance. In thirty seconds, the balls of flame grew to full size. " Now crash!" Tim yells as he swings his blade down, the balls following his movements. Regardless of if his attacks worked, or even connected Tim pulls his shield in front of him. Starting slowly, eventually turning into a full charge, his goal reaching the guards.
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 19, 2016 3:35:51 GMT
The silhouette made signs of attention, tilting its head and nodding in answer to some unheard call. Without warning, the miasma of apprehension blasting from the form seemed to grow even more, to the point where Morgne could barely bear it. Ironic, how with so much will to defy it, her resolve crumbled in her sensitivity. Her knees shook in chorus with her hands, and her eyes danced in her head like acrobats on a swing. But regardless, she stood her stance against the waves, though any semblance of formality had left her now quavering form. The oppressive aura grew, and grew, and grew, but there was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing at all... until it vanished.
Before the woman had a chance to gather herself again, a new form both terrifying and awful in visage. It left no trace of its presence, nevertheless, the queen could see the truth for what it was. The middlemen were gone, and that terrible blast of power felt just earlier was nothing more than a trumpet call heralding the king himself.
"Timore." The name rose to her lips with ease, and not only because the creature before had mentioned it. The name fit the thing before her like a tailored glove to the hand of a noble. It was Timore... it was THE Timore. Aching, trembling, and damp with fearful sweat, the arrogant queen bowed her head.
"Indeed, you are, I remember you. But the world has changed, the magic of this new world is greater than the magic of your old one. Surely, you have felt it. Brute force and unparalleled acts of cruelty worked a long time ago, but no longer. Now, we play a game of thrones where war is the last resort, not the first."
He knew of her. Morgne could not help but feel a flush of pride at the thought, though she quickly rejected it. It was unlike her to bend so easily. Unlike her to cater to whims. She was not a sycophant to the more powerful, but instead a woodsmen, felling them from the base. And this talk of brute force, of cruelty, helped her self-assuredness to return. Yes, he knew of her, but he did not know her. True, she warred oft against her opposition. True, she was rumored to be unmatched in bloodlust. But there was a subtler side, a darker side, that the queen embraced with vanity and joy. This game of thrones existed long before the present day, and Morgne well knew how to play it.
"You say you are a speaker to the hearts of men, if this is so then you interest me. I am in need of one with an, open ear, to take control of this Kingdom. Therefore, I offer you a pact. You will accept my mark, and not only will I give you power, but I will grant one wish. Meet me at the Waters of the World if you plan on accepting my offer, and think long and hard about your wish."
One wish... open ear... to take control of the kingdom? The offer seemed too enticing to be safe. The sorceress did not like the sound of being marked, whatever that ensued, and the entire speech had hints of docile subservience. Morgne served no one. But for now, she would play along in caution, and take the gifts this Timore presented. Power always came at a cost. Before she could respond, the monster vanished, leaving only its cantankerous cackle in its place. Then that too disappeared.
First...
First she had to get out of the Palace. The lingering fear still wandered through the halls, betraying the beasts they still concealed. She could feel a massive force -though not as large as Timore's trumpets- effervescing from somewhere near. Whatever brought it, it was not her problem. Her goal was to find this... 'Waters of the World'. The words brought a sense of reverence from her captured soul, and glimpses of a distant temple. Further prying brought fraying memories of a serene pool, and some ritual from a bygone time, accompanied by the youthful exuberance of a child's heart. Together, the sorceress patched an idea of where she had to go.
But the guards...
Hush, little one. Guards are no trouble for the Queen of the Elohim.
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Post by Dymion on Jan 21, 2016 5:55:35 GMT
"You're interested in joining the Academy?"
"Yes sir."
Standing across the desk from the authority figure, Akarus blinked calmly, his arms folded behind his back as he attempted to look as professional as possible. However, despite his careful posture, inside, he could feel the growing since of anxiety in his chest. Ever since he had strode into the captain's office, it had been pushing at the back of his mind, requiring his attention. Now, it seemed the greatest emotion pervading his psyche, washing over all others as it threatened his composure. But why, exactly, he felt such a desire to join the guard, to the point nerves were challenging him, escaped him. Perhaps it was because, back in his home village, he had done something so similar, giving him a sense of his world before. Maybe it was because of the girl he had met at the dance, her condition a reminder of the need for protectors... or maybe, just maybe, it was a combination of the two. What ever the case, he was here, waiting for judgement to be dictated.
"Akarus, your name was?"
The youth gave a quick nod, his eerie gray eyes watching Willem's expression.
"Well, the Academy is always ready to recruit willing and helpful souls to serve the people - foreign or not,"
Relief flooded the young man's heart, his eyes showing it as the muscles in his body relaxed. Still, he kept his posture, showing no other signs of the extreme satisfaction that he felt. He'd been accepted, even despite his foreign heritage, and had an opportunity to become a true part of his new home.
"I warn you. This is not a band of thugs and louts looking to throw their power around. You have no power. You'll be at the mercy of our Lady Theolandra and her people, nothing more."
Akarus allowed a slight smile at the statement, feeling a sense of joy at the statement. Those words meant something more than they'd been intended to. This was not a group of slacking individuals. Their jobs were taken seriously. Opening his mouth, the young man was prepped and ready to let his new superior officer know he could be trusted. But, before a single word could leave his mouth, the thundering of footsteps broke his focus, causing him to turn, confusion crossing his features as the exhausted messenger appeared.
"Right Hand, Keeper Neala Pledeg, requires your-.. your presence at the palace, without wait."
Akarus threw a worried glance at Willem, noting the urgency in the messenger's voice. Sure enough, the captain could hear it too, and with a few quick words, set off, sword in hand as he called Akarus along. The only reply:
"Yes sir." __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When they arrived at the scene of the battle, it was absolute chaos, the beasts swarming those few soldiers present as they fought for the surrogates. With both him and the captain on the scene, however, there was a chance the battle could be swayed, and with that and Willem's prompting in mind, Akarus drew his sword, stepping forward to assist in the battle. Arriving on the left side of Willem, this step would bring him within range of the monstrosity the captain had already struck, and, as the crowish abomination lashed out, the youth took the opportunity. Sword in right hand, his arm would move away from the creature, sweeping down as he brought the blade back across his body with full momentum, hips and arm twisting so that he could slash at the chest. A quick pull would follow, in the hope of disengaging the blade from either claw or flesh. Then, if his blade was free, he would continue, determined eyes focusing on the guard brought to the ground.
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Aug 15, 2015 17:44:50 GMT
August 2015
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Post by Guest on Jan 23, 2016 2:05:21 GMT
Willem started to yank his blade from the back of the pallid beast but not before its monstrous claws aimed to strike him. Sparkling ribbons of blood webbed off of the gruesome talons in violent syrupy arcs as the monster cut his arm across. The Captain's hilt was snatched from his hand in the scuffle. Perhaps it was hitched between two vertebrae along the creature's spindly back? It didn't matter. Whatever caused the blade to stick left him without a weapon and without time to dodge the coming blow. Instinct moved Willem to protect himself with his forearm. A grizzly howl boomed over the chaos as razor blade claws broke skin. Why didn't he remember to grab a shield?! That was going to be infected, for sure..
Thankfully the new recruit was there to finish the beast while Willem dove to regain his sword. It had been flung toward a cluster of the pale ghouls, and clattered to a halt at their feet as they distracted themselves with the poor soul they'd ganged up on. Divine fire, the screaming that ripped from the man's throat! It was torture hearing the painful cries chocked by the merciless thumping of his shoulders against the stone floors. The gashes on his forearm began to burn but Willem ignored it. An angry fist seized the grip of his sword, and he stumbled to his feet in a desperate charge. Like a bull seeing red the Captain toppled into the gang of foul beasts with his sword thrust ahead. Maybe he was hungry.. but part of him imagined the ugly beasts piling up on his blade like pigs on a spit.
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