Post by Fang on Jul 1, 2016 20:45:37 GMT
Wake stepped into the cool stone throne room with a sigh of relief, shaking off the oppressive heat from outside almost literally. Strangely, for a throne room, there was sparse lighting, and dust motes drifted through the air as if to alert the newcomer that he did not belong there. Despite recently cleaning his clothes he still felt out of place, and the message the motes sent to him was received with a begrudging acknowledgement. However, Wake could not turn back from what had driven him to the chamber, so committed as he was to the finding of that unknown assailant which had so grievously injured the emerald girl.
Despite his resolve Wake stood still, bag clutched in his right hand and slung over his shoulder mere steps from the doorway. It was as if something within him warned that he would be walking into danger if he continued forward. Unlike most men this feeling only convinced him that he had found the right place. With a deep breath he continued past the short corridor and into the throne room proper, unsurprised to find that it was as dim and dusty as the entranceway had been. He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the gloom as he surveyed the shadowed tapestries and lurking statuettes with both wariness and suspicion, his senses alert to whatever threat his gut was telling him was nearby.
It took him several seconds to register the shape before him as the throne which gave the room its name, and several more moments for him to realize that a figure sat upon that throne in a relaxed, almost luxurious manner. Almost as if a switch had been flipped the room seemed to brighten a little, giving the figure before him more definition, but also an aura of color that seemed to surround it much farther than the throne. Simultaneously, as he gained new sight, Wake's head began to pound in a staccato rhythm that he did not immediately recognize as his own racing heartbeat.
Wake willed himself to calm, forcing his heartbeat to slow. The sudden lighting faded away, taking the figure's definition and aura away as the headache subsided. Wake rubbed his temples for a moment before speaking to the woman upon the throne.
"Queen of Etirath, I am but a humble travel who has come in search of noble assistance," he said as he bowed low, keeping his eyes on the figure. He had learned recently that such a bow was not suitable in all countries, but he hoped that the monarch would understand that he knew only of his own land's ways. The figure lifted a hand, motioning for him to rise, and rolled that same hand over in a gesture for him to continue. Wake graciously obliged.
"Not long after entering your fair land I did happen across a young woman who had been grievously injured a horrendous manner. Black putrescence poured from her mouth and wounds covered her, but yet she lived. Two of my compatriots heard her softly spoken pleas and, considering their familiarity with the land, I allowed them to continue to aid without me as I hunted the beast who might have done that to an innocent." Wake paused for a moment to catch his breath and judge for a reaction from the enthroned patron before him. After several moments of silence he continued.
"Alas, my search has taken me through much of your land, and though I have gained much knowledge of the terrain and the people I still have naught to show in regards to my prey." Wake bowed again, speaking his request as he did so. "From the moment I came within leagues of your land it was told of your power and wisdom. I had hoped that you might be able to guide me in my quest to avenge one of your people."
Wake held the bow several minutes before straightening, thinking perhaps that the monarch needed confirmation that he was indeed done with his speech. He clasped his hands behind his back as he waited, first gazing at the shadowy figure and finally taking to studying the walls as he supposed the Queen needed time to consider his request. When at last he thought he could not stand the silence a moment longer the figure stirred, first sitting up straight and then rising gracefully to its feet. As she took her first step from the dais the throne stood upon Wake waited below with stifled breath, waiting for the words of the Queen.
Despite his resolve Wake stood still, bag clutched in his right hand and slung over his shoulder mere steps from the doorway. It was as if something within him warned that he would be walking into danger if he continued forward. Unlike most men this feeling only convinced him that he had found the right place. With a deep breath he continued past the short corridor and into the throne room proper, unsurprised to find that it was as dim and dusty as the entranceway had been. He squinted, adjusting his eyes to the gloom as he surveyed the shadowed tapestries and lurking statuettes with both wariness and suspicion, his senses alert to whatever threat his gut was telling him was nearby.
It took him several seconds to register the shape before him as the throne which gave the room its name, and several more moments for him to realize that a figure sat upon that throne in a relaxed, almost luxurious manner. Almost as if a switch had been flipped the room seemed to brighten a little, giving the figure before him more definition, but also an aura of color that seemed to surround it much farther than the throne. Simultaneously, as he gained new sight, Wake's head began to pound in a staccato rhythm that he did not immediately recognize as his own racing heartbeat.
Wake willed himself to calm, forcing his heartbeat to slow. The sudden lighting faded away, taking the figure's definition and aura away as the headache subsided. Wake rubbed his temples for a moment before speaking to the woman upon the throne.
"Queen of Etirath, I am but a humble travel who has come in search of noble assistance," he said as he bowed low, keeping his eyes on the figure. He had learned recently that such a bow was not suitable in all countries, but he hoped that the monarch would understand that he knew only of his own land's ways. The figure lifted a hand, motioning for him to rise, and rolled that same hand over in a gesture for him to continue. Wake graciously obliged.
"Not long after entering your fair land I did happen across a young woman who had been grievously injured a horrendous manner. Black putrescence poured from her mouth and wounds covered her, but yet she lived. Two of my compatriots heard her softly spoken pleas and, considering their familiarity with the land, I allowed them to continue to aid without me as I hunted the beast who might have done that to an innocent." Wake paused for a moment to catch his breath and judge for a reaction from the enthroned patron before him. After several moments of silence he continued.
"Alas, my search has taken me through much of your land, and though I have gained much knowledge of the terrain and the people I still have naught to show in regards to my prey." Wake bowed again, speaking his request as he did so. "From the moment I came within leagues of your land it was told of your power and wisdom. I had hoped that you might be able to guide me in my quest to avenge one of your people."
Wake held the bow several minutes before straightening, thinking perhaps that the monarch needed confirmation that he was indeed done with his speech. He clasped his hands behind his back as he waited, first gazing at the shadowy figure and finally taking to studying the walls as he supposed the Queen needed time to consider his request. When at last he thought he could not stand the silence a moment longer the figure stirred, first sitting up straight and then rising gracefully to its feet. As she took her first step from the dais the throne stood upon Wake waited below with stifled breath, waiting for the words of the Queen.