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The Gelbaron Saga; The Original Story
Topic Started: Dec 23 2008, 05:46 AM (6,476 Views)
Dark Jack
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The Phantom Poster
"Perhaps they don't," Gerald told Jey/Meryc over his shoulder, sighing as he realized that she was following him despite that he had just been seconds from killing her and his temper having been brought to the very limit of how far it could be pushed, but he also knew that it would be fruitless to try to persuade Jey/Meryc to stay away from him, since at least Jey did not seem to understand anything the way it was supposed to be understood, and he knew that it would be useless to try to run away, since he had already learned that Jey/Meryc was much faster than his fragile bone-legs could carry him. He just had to live with it...
"But even if they did not want the rule of the world, do you think that they would like to be brought back to this world?" he asked, still approaching the group of people, where the battle seemed to have calmed down, "To a world torn apart by war amongst nations, none of which even remotely worthy of the power they already have, let alone more of it? And to a society where necromancy and undeath is considered abominations, where they would be run out of civilized areas, just because they have already been dead, no matter how well I restore them? Where they would be forced to live in exile in the mountains and forests, amongst... Werepyres!" He shook his head. "I think that no matter what, they would prefer to rule the world rather than be terrorized by it."

As he got closer to the edge of the forest, Gerald sent out a thought to his staff and channeled some mana to it, and it wonderously started shrinking down to first the size of a small wand, and then even further until it was at the size of a toothpick. Once it was that small, Gerald sent out another command to it, and the tiny staff's wooden shaft wrapped itself around one of his fingers, making it look like a small ring with tiny, glowing malachite engraved onto it. It looked harmless, but could be enlarged and transformed again at any given time... the perfect way to conceal a weapon.
"Do not attack; I come unarmed!" Gerald announced as he approached the people, some of which were kneeling by an obviously dead man, apparently mourning him. Gerald could feel the dead bodies that surrounded him, their presence almost seeming intoxicating to him as his mana actually almost tried to reach out for them, filling him with a desire to reanimate them and use them as minions. "Hello again, Menza," Gerald nodded at the seer with a vicious tone in his voice. How would the others react, he wondered, if he told them just where Menza had been while the dead man they evidently had loved had been killed? But that information was to toy with later.
"I see you have a slight problem with someone having, how do you say it... passed away quite abruptly?" he pointed out with a nod towards the dead man, while his eyes were greedily fixed on the Forsaken Weapons these people had, "I might be able to help you... if you will listen."
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Oracle
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Head of Diplomatic Affairs
Sindra found what little comfort she could in Mercinus' embrace, but when he extricated himself from her she was too numb with shock to do anything but watch. While her mind tried to reconcile her part in Brodin's death, she took in the words of the immortal. It was true she would prefer the quick death for her brother, she just couldn't forgive her own part in it. Sindra stumbled back to Brodin, his skin turning to the grey ash color of death. Strength of muscle left her completely and her knees collapsed of their own accord. As her mind reeled with guilt and the need of a forgiveness she would never hear, she grasped his lifeless cold hand.

She didn't take notice of the commotion at the tree involving several of the party members. When the new voice uttered his welcome, "Do not attack; I come unarmed!" She didn't even look up. Her eyes blurred from crying, were not concerned with the looks of another arrival to their group. But his next words had her complete attention.

"I see you have a slight problem with someone having, how do you say it... passed away quite abruptly? I might be able to help you... if you will listen."

Her head snapped up to see the apparition of fleshless bones. Inhaling sharply, she had no idea what to make of him. His glowing eyes seemed to be more hungry than benevolent. What was he? How could bones be animated? Her eyes took on a puzzled look, how can he talk with no flesh? Was he able to bring her brother back? Through her grief besotted mind all she could think was, I could have Brodin back? There were no consequences to enter her thoughts, just simple desire. He already knew Menza. Surely the immortal would have foreseen his arrival and warned her of any further harm. If the bag of bones was brave enough to confront the group?...in desperation, her mind gave way to her voice. "What is it you can do?"

I Role Play because the people in my head tell me to.


TUESDAY AFTERNOON

It is God who can transform the lowest into the highest, who humbles the proud,
and causes that which is in darkness to become light.~Horace

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Neutual Demon
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Cakeo? Imp Cakeo?
"What business have you here, Dark Elf?" Luman blinked, and turned to face to the person who spoke, an elf. "I'll not suffer your presence a moment longer than I must, so you'd better speak and be gone quickly." He huffed out a sigh, rubbing his temples. This wasn't going to be good. He knew perfectly well that other elves did NOT like dark elves.
"Sheesh, I was just curious of what was going on, and I fell out of a tree in the process, what's with all the snassy mouthing?" His dark red eyes narrowed on the elf, but his emotions were calm. "And if you don't like me, then I'll leave, I have no problem in doing such things. I've been doing that ever since I left my homeland, so stop speaking in such a tone." He folded his arms, and glowered. He was getting quite irritated by all the hatred he had been recieving from everyone, juse because he was a damn dark elf. So what? There was nothing wrong with what he was.


Semanaia traced her toes in the dirt, now bored after being so angry for the past few hours. Her sandals and her two scimitars lay beside her on the boulder she was sitting on, and she kept tracing her toes in the dirt. It was probably the only interesting thing she could do at the moment, while her mind wander off.
She didn't like being bored. She was working for a group of people who never seemed to rest, and yet, why was she doing nothing? Oh, right, she got left behind. It was like back in the desert city all over again; working for a group, but not with them. She did everything solo. It was alright, but once in awhile, she just wished someone took the hint that she couldn't do everything just by herself. Well, her life was nothing, so why did it matter to them?
"This sucks." Semanaia heaved a sigh, digging her toes into the earth in annoyance. "I'm probably still alive only because of this sword." Her dark purple eyes looked down at the scimitar beside her. She still didn't get why they were collecting swords for someone, she figured out that much. Why couldn't he get it himself? She glowered angrly at het feet. She didn't like asking herself questions.
Something tells me that someone's playing with my head again...
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Teslyn
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a fleeting presence
Jey approached the group after GeraldRiver-whowantedtheworld, Galangdei trailing in the dirt behind her trailing in the dirt behind her and reflecting the sun oh so oh so trailing and reflecting the sun's beautiful rays but Galangdei wasn't red but Meryc told her to wait for GeraldRiver-whowantedtheworld and GeraldRiver-whowantedtheworld wanted her to wait so she would wait before Galangdei would reflect the sun brightly, wetly red. Instead, she skipped up to the group, brilliant smile on her face, ignoring the death around her because death was final, it was terrifyingly final- it loomed there, ever present always there the possibility of it so - so- so - it could be a storm or a stray arrow or or anything so Jey ignored it.

"Do you - do you believe. Believe in an afterlife? A life after life, a somewhere else where that's better than here an - an afterlife?" she murmured, stopping beside the body and peering at it.

The question was more for GeraldRiver-whowantedtheworld than anyone else because he could be stealing his loved ones from a nice beautiful afterlife and throwing them into the desolateness of the world he'd described not but minutes ago and well then they wouldn't be too happy with him now, would they?

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Dark Jack
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The Phantom Poster
Annoyed that Jey/Meryc persisted to question his plans to bring back his family, as if he had not thought of the questions himself during his long life, as if he had not already doubted whether he was doing the right thing, Gerald merely turned his head slightly to send Jey/Meryc a glare that he hoped would signal for her to be quiet and let him talk business with the people with the Forsaken Weapons.
Of course there is an afterlife. If there wasn't, where would I be bringing my family back from, if they were just gone? he tried to think "loudly", hoping that Jey/Meryc would "hear" it, I don't think that the afterlife is necessarily better than this world, though. If I had thought that it was, I would not have sacrificed my own afterlife in return for eternal life - I would just have killed myself the day my family died. And quiet down now - I am bargaining.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, bowing as elegantly as his inhuman form allowed him to, "I am Gerald River, and I am probably the leading expert in the art of necromancy and mana-manipulation in the world. What I can do is to use mana to bring the dead back to life. I have spent four centuries studying and experimenting with necromancy, and I believe that I have perfected a method to bring back the dead - such as your friend there." He nodded at the mutilated body.
Then he turned away from her with a loud sigh, making sure that it was at least enough for the group to hear. "However, although my spell almost certainly would work, I simply do not have the power to perform it effectively. Although my expertise is considerable, I fear that my magic power is not sufficient to return someone beyond the grave... I wish there was some way to get that power." Full of deceptive eagerness, Gerald raised his hand and snapped his fingers as if he had just thought of something. "Now I know! I've noticed that your group is in possession of some of the Forsaken Weapons? Well, the Forsaken Weapons have impressive amounts of magic energy stored within them, and I think that with just some of them, or maybe just one of them, I could maybe draw the power I need to bring back your dear perished friend. Would you let me try? Surely, it would matter little to you if you let me borrow one of the relics for just a moment."
He chuckled inside himself. He would need to try out his spell before trying to use it on his family anyways... if something was wrong with it, he would need to start all over again.
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Mercinus3
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The English Kitty Ninja
Mercinus scowled as Menza disappeared from the forest, and started to return to the group. He thought about something that the prophet had said earlier that day. If the immortal had one weakness, then the mercenary might have figured out what it was, though it didn't help bring Brodin back. Once he was next to the dead warrior and Sindra, he knelt down, and held her again. For the first time in ages, he was worried about someone, and felt helpless when he couldn't help them. However, a feeling of helplessness suddenly stopped when someone came into the group. "I see you have a slight problem with someone having, how do you say it... passed away quite abruptly? I might be able to help you... if you will listen."

Mercinus had his attention at the person that was in front of the group. The mercenary thought that there was something suspicious about the abomination that was in front of them. He didn't know what it was, but he was about to find out when he spoke again. "I am Gerald River, and I am probably the leading expert in the art of necromancy and mana-manipulation in the world. What I can do is to use mana to bring the dead back to life. I have spent four centuries studying and experimenting with necromancy, and I believe that I have perfected a method to bring back the dead - such as your friend there." He had raised his eyebrow, showing signs of interest. However, what the lich had said next completely made him lose interest.

"However, although my spell almost certainly would work, I simply do not have the power to perform it effectively. Although my expertise is considerable, I fear that my magic power is not sufficient to return someone beyond the grave... I wish there was some way to get that power... Now I know! I've noticed that your group is in possession of some of the Forsaken Weapons? Well, the Forsaken Weapons have impressive amounts of magic energy stored within them, and I think that with just some of them, or maybe just one of them, I could maybe draw the power I need to bring back your dear perished friend. Would you let me try? Surely, it would matter little to you if you let me borrow one of the relics for just a moment."

Mercinus was already on his guard, and started to walk over towards his own sword. "Sounds interesting, necromancer. However... I've got one question to ask you. How do you know about the Forsaken Weapons? There are only a handful of scholars in the world that knows of their existence, and all of them either live in Terrubane and Conuence. Are you working with Lord Sacremento and the Dark Ancient?" Once he grabbed his claymore, he walked over near the lich, and confronted him.
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Efarilahn
 
Eat babies, don't punt kittens.
This is true. I will go ninja kitty on your asses if you do... *glowers and sharpens claws*
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Dark Jack
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The Phantom Poster
"The term 'working with'-someone seems so harsh and definite," Gerald shrugged, making no attempt to hide his background since at the moment, he sensed that the best way of deceiving these people was to dazzle them by simply speaking the truth. "I would more consider it loose, mutual agreement not to bother one another, and in return of me being allowed to stay in those pesky mountains of his, I just do that complete moron who calls himself a Lord a favor once in a while. This is not one of them, though."

"And really, what threat am I to you? You are a whole bunch of people with great magic powers, impressive fighting skills, you have a companion that is an immortal seer, and you are in possession of no less than three Forsaken Weapons, and I..." He gestured towards his own twisted form. "...stand before you completely unarmed, and with little magic talents beyond that of raising the dead. Surely, even if you lent me a Forsaken Weapon, you still had all your other advantages and the two remaining ones to hold against me."
"Of course, if you're not interested..." Gerald let his speech trail off as he turned around and started to walk away again, all while he expected either the suspicious man or the desperate woman to call him back to negotiate further...

He was just too good.
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Teslyn
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a fleeting presence
"Quiet down," Jey murmured. "Quiet down. Downdowndown. Quiet down. Quiet down, Meryc, Quiet down, Jey, Quiet Quiet Quiet down down dowwwnn. Talking. GeraldRiver-whowants--- shh, Meryc, shh, he's talking. Quiet down - already asked questions -asked them asked himself- but the Afterlife that's after life-- Meryc thinks it'll be - I will never - quiet down. Down down down -"

Jey quieted down, repeating GeraldRiver-whowantedtheworld's instructions to herself in a muttering murmur, a murmuring mutter, mm. Yes, yes, quiet down down down -- but then they mentioned their Galangdeis and then she couldn't quiet quiet down because the seriousman was being so seriousman and he did Not Sound Happy or very Nice, and Jey liked Happy and Nice. Happy and nice.

"Happy and nice," she said. "Happy and nice." A little louder. Lifting up Galangdei, she answered the question for GeraldRiver-whowantedtheworld, trying to be helpful. "Happy and Nice. Meet Galangdei. Galangdei knows. GeraldRiver-who-who shh, Meryc GeraldRiver knows what Galangdei knows. Galangdei knows other Galangdeis. No? Yes? Yes. Yes Galangdei Knows."

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Wyrmling
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RP-Crazy @_@
"I know what your kind do, Dark Elf. Do not seek to deceive me with tricks and lies." Alyre stood her ground, staring coldly at the individual seated below her. "And I don't believe for a moment that you were just 'curious to see what was going on'. But, since I am not of any real status in the group which you were spying on, it would be presumptuous of me to send you away without introducing you to Mercinus. If you will come this way, the mercenary is right over there." Alyre glanced behind her, surprised to see that Mercinus was already talking to another newcomer... a lich, no-less. It seemed that their group attracted no end of bad company.

"He seems to be busy at the moment," she amended. "But if you are prepared to wait, I will not harm you if you don't make any foolish attempts at savagery." Peering warily at the dark-skinned elf, Alyre kept her senses open so she could watch the shifty sylvan and keep an ear on the lich at the same time.

"-Forsaken Weapons have impressive amounts of magic energy stored within them, and I think that with just some of them, or maybe just one of them, I could maybe draw the power I need to bring back your dear perished friend. Would you let me try? Surely, it would matter little to you if you let me borrow one of the relics for just a moment," the undead was saying. Alyre scowled, still keeping her eyes on the dark elven rogue. Her features smoothed slightly as Mercinus refused the offer, but she knew that an individual of such knowledge and alignment could only bring trouble. Sighing, the small elven woman continued to eavesdrop while watching her self-assigned charge.
Edited by Wyrmling, Mar 11 2009, 07:05 PM.
"From the tiny egg the great wyrm grows." -Kobold Preverb, D&D Draconomicon
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Shienvien
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I want, I can, I do
"Do you really believe, that the dead can be brought to life?" The woman's voice was suggesting that the thing, the whole process of taking back the changes that caused death and followed it was impossible. No. Possible. It was indeed possible. As possible as anything else. Yes everything was possible. Everything. turning back death? Yes. It was. He had seen. Seen it. With his own eyes. Eyes don't lie. Never. Unless there's magic. None was used on Arech, then. He saw. He believed. No, he didn't believe. He knew. Knew as one might know any other thing. In the world. Yes. He had more time. Had existed for more time. A lot more time. Time. Yes, time. With time came the knowing, not without it. Years... Centuries... Of living. Seeing. Sensing. Moving. "Have seen." Was the only message he gave the others. "I have." He repeated, after saying the last two words to confirm: "I know."

"It was such an experiment that... Let us humor you and pretend that the dead can be brought back to life." The woman's split said. It was no longer her who was talking. No. It was the split. Splitten part. Using body of another. Having lost one's own. Unable to reclaim a body of one's own. Dead? Gone? But then Meryc would not say a word against. Against him. Arech. Arechiar. Arechiarnaw. Who knew. Knew because of the time. Words it had heard. Things he had seen. Yes... Maybe Split didn't want others to know? Or let them to learn? Or was disappointed? Failed? Being dead was... Odd. Arech must not be dead. He has a purpose.

"Let us pretend you have brought your family back- but what then? What will they think of you, Gerald River, you who have forsaken flesh and blood for eternal life? What will they think of the things you have done to bring them back? Do they believe the ends justify the means? - tell me, Gerald River. What will they think? Will they despise you, fear you, or mourn the lost of the Gerald River they knew?"
"Purpose..." Arech said slowly, closing his eyes again. Isolating himself from the world. He didn't need to see. Nothing to see. No need to see. But yes... They will again have purpose. Destination. Thing they have to do. Yes. Everyone had these. Everyone. But not everyone acknowledged that. No... They didn't know. Didn't know what they were doing. The didn't. They just did. Like Arech. Like he himself. He just sometimes knew that he did. Why he did. That there was a purpose. Destination. Behind it. Not always. Not always did he do that. Sometimes he didn't. A lot to think.

Death... It was here. He felt. He did. With his body. The Scent of death. Not blood, but death. Changes. Changes to turn back into the earth below. Rotting. Vanishing. Leaving. But no death took being. One continues being. Just no body. No body at all. Mind. Thoughts... Till those began to lose... Parts... To become A Something. A Something in the end.
The smell of blood, and not only blood had irritated the nostrils of the dustrunner's body which Arech now was but he was used to his body having reactions of its all and had learned to not to mind it too much, when not needed. Required. Imperative. And yes... Not only blood. Death. Death had a scent of its own. For him at least. He had seen it for so many times. Felt it for so many times. Got used to it. Recognizing it. Always. It remained. Death was a part of... Life. Yes. It was. For normal beings. At least for normal beings. But what was Arech? Arechiarnaw? Besides the changer? Did it matter? At all? No? Yes. No.

”Well… I guess that I am not needed in this little fray. I’ll leave you to sort out your own differences. Before I head back to the group, I must tell you something, Gerald. You will not be the one who will wield all of the Forsaken Weapons. The future says that the Dark Ancient will be the one who gather the weapons for his demise, and his only. Only then, will the Descendant will shine out in the darkness.”
"Sixteen." Arech told them, even when the seer had started to leave already. "Prophecies. Altered. Not sure. Never."
No one. Not even the ones who saw the future. Could be sure. In the future. Anything could change. Anything. Everything. Because it was the changes. There were the changes. Impulses. Things not to be seen. Never. Not before those happened. The sixteen brought together. End. It won't be end. There is no end. That's why.

"They will have life anew and youth eternal as well as the rule of the world, if my plans work out well. If they must mourn me, so be it, but that sacrifice was mine to make. If they despise or fear me, then I will remove the enchantment from my crown and destroy it myself. That was my choice to make, it was my sacrifice... and clearly, you two-in-one and your shape-shifting friend can't accept that."
Arech finally opened his eyes and looked back at the crowned lich. "I?" He hadn't said anything. Anything about it. At all. He could not speak about Arech. He had not spoken. He didn't know. He had agreed. That death can be taken back. Just as any change. Death was change as any other. Nothing more. "Said nothing. Said nothing about it. Didn't disagree. Didn't accept.'' He told. Clearly enough. The reptilian closed his eyes again and stood up, towering at a little more than two and a half meters. Dustrunners were tall. But he was not a Serahhr. He was Arech. The Changer.

"Do they want to rule the world?" Want. Have to. Need. Task. Purpose. Destination. Thing to do... It was all the same. Was it not? He knew it was. For him. For him at least. Was it not so for others? Was not every impulse in the head a need? Must do? It was. For him. For the changer. The shifter. Maybe it would have been easier. For him. To be someone else. Anyone else. But Arech. But the unknown shapeshifter. But his own kind...
Maybe he could understand. Then. What others meant. What the split meant. What is the difference. Difference between him and others. Between his thinking and the thoughts of others. Between being Arech. One of his kind. And being anyone else...
Being anyone else would be simpler. Much simpler.For him. For Arech. He wasn't. He was Arech.

Gerald's reply was as confusing. Prefer? What was to prefer? There choices, yes. But prefer? He never really understood that word the others used. There were choices. Yes. That was simple. Choices were possibilities. Possibilities to do things. Every possible thing to do in the world. He choose. His mind choose by itself. And once he had chosen, he did. He had to do. It was more than imperative. Everything that comes to, has to be done. At all costs... That was the purpose. Purpose. Do what comes to. Mind. It was unexplainable what came. But it had to be done. Before done, nothing. No new destinations. No new tasks. Nothing. That... Was what made him Arech. Held him together. If he doesn't do what needed... He'll soon lose the name after the purpose. When name and purpose was gone, only body remained. When body was then destroyed... Killed... Only thoughts will remain. Aimless thoughts. Bodyless thoughts. Only a notch forward, and one would become A Something. A destiny no-one deserved. Others became A Something as soon as their bodies were killed. Maybe it all had something to do with not knowing about the purpose? That way, It made sense.
Being A Something was what could be called death. The worst thing. The scent of death was the scent of A Something. It was no real scent. But it was there.

Losing destination, body and purpose... Becoming A Something. It was the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Anyone. At all. He didn't want it to happen to him. To Arech. No. It was true he had killed. Several times. But only out of purpose. Not of anger. Not of hate. Not of anything else. But purpose. When his mind told to kill... He did. Always. Bringing back dead. Resurrection. Restoring life. Resetting the changes... It was only tearing a being back from being a something. It was good. Always. No matter what the life was.

The Dustrunner-Arech shook his head violently producing a rippling sound of some kind, as if to try to erase the thoughts from his mind. He dragged the claws of one of his legs through the soil, and jumped lightly from one foot to another, as if to try his legs, before he moved closer to the group in long strides. The Serahhr, known also as Dustrunners, had a build made for reaching high speeds and making as few contact with the hot surface below as possible, while being extremely tolerant to both heat and extreme cold and being able to produce water with using the reactions from the different strong chemicals their bodies produced, being able to get water literally out of bare stones, if needed... That much of the Serahhr. This was no desert. He was no Serahhr. Nor had he the mentality of one. He was just a shapeshifter. Uncontrollable. Spontaneous. And now he looked like a Serahhr.

Unarmed? Not a truth. Lies. Armed. With both magic. Mana. And staff which changed with the power to change. The Fake-Dustrunner was too, following the lich. Why? He didn't know. He just did. Group Death. A Something. There was A Something. New A Something. Fresh death. The body lied still on ground. Motionless. No process of life. Dead. Destroyed. Only A Something remained. Poor being. Arech made a slight bow-like motion, lowering his head a bit. The lich offered to restore. Arech's eyes opened. Yes. He had walked. Eyes closed. He could. He didn't need to see. That was why. He waited.

Will he see the awakening again? Is the other one accepting? The Lich capable of it?

Jey spoke again. Not the split. Meryc. But Jey. The woman who had liked her. He now was he but he had been she short time ago. Changes came. Changed.
"Do you - do you believe. Believe in an afterlife? A life after life, a somewhere else where that's better than here an - an afterlife?"
"After life?" Arech asked taking two more steps closer. "Become. Something less. Much less. A Something. Nothing more..." The lich had introduced himself to others. As he could indeed resurrect... Perhaps he could. Magic? Mana? Needed? Out of weapons? Out of the sixteen? Arech doubted. Weapons. Destruction. Eradication. Bringing changes. Stopping life. Bringing death. Killing. And so on. Not the opposite. The opposite of all those things... How could a weapon do the opposite of its very purpose?

"The sixteen." Arech commented again, when the 'forsaken weapons' were mentioned again. The knowing about them. He too. Knew. Knew about them. Time teaches. He had time. Lots of it. For him, time didn't bring death. Time alone. Wounds. Weapons. Destruction. Magic to kill. Changes to kill. Yes. Those might bring death. Even to him. But time. No. The crowned lich had time. The same way he himself did. Nothing odd. Nothing odd in knowing. "Time." He said. "Time teaches." He didn't reply for the lich. Just said what he knew. What things he knew.
The scaling on his body turned bright silver, reflecting every single ray from sun which fell on it.

Evil. He had no side like that. One side. One side one could pick. Sides were three. One. Other. Neither. He was neither. He acted on impulses. Did what needed. Could. He was either neither or one of the sides. Or both. Neither AND one of the sides... On side should be picked. Otherwise, conflict. Traitor. He hoped... Hoped... Something? Feelings?
He heard the woman's murmurings. Quiet? But not yet quiet. Trying to.

"Happy and Nice. Meet Galangdei. Galangdei knows. GeraldRiver-who-who shh, Meryc GeraldRiver knows what Galangdei knows. Galangdei knows other Galangdeis. No? Yes? Yes. Yes Galangdei Knows."
"Yes. Sixteen. Connection. Time." Arech agreed half-mindedly. He was shiny. His eyes were fixed on a spot of light. It originated from his silver scales. After being originated from the sun.

(((I am going to add a picture of a random Serahhr to give you an impression how Arech currently looks like... Otherwise the following picture or the Dustrunner on it has nothing to do with the RP. And remind you that I have nothing but a mobile phone to take pictures, that is why it is relatively small and blurry.
http://i255.photobucket.com/albums/hh150/Sinine1100/Blurry-Serahhr-Ceremony2.png )))
Edited by Shienvien, Mar 12 2009, 04:19 PM.
A thought can create a world, but only a word written down can ensure its existence.

-When I am physically capable of doing something it doesn't mean I can do it. When I can, it doesn't mean that I should. When I should, it doesn't mean that I must. When I must, it doesn't mean that I will.
-I might not always know where I currently am, but I am never lost. I know in which direction my destination lies.
-There is no faith in knowing. I prefer to know, as only in this way can I be certain in my decisions.
-The more people you ask a question the higher the chance that at least one of them is right.
-Make me walk on walls, don't force me to dance according to others' will.
-I agree that life can be depressing at times. I just choose to ignore it.
-I don't figure over possibilities. I want, I can, I do.


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