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| Souls of Ancient Fantasy; Modern Fantasy | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 15 2009, 09:38 PM (978 Views) | |
| Silvermourn | Feb 15 2009, 09:38 PM Post #1 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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In days long gone, when the land was a darker place. Men and women stood true to their word. Fought alongside each other in epic battles that faded into nothing more than fantastical stories. The beauty of the world was not concealed by the darkness of the time, as it is by the blinding brilliance of the new age of man. No true warriors exist any longer, no true honor and chivalry is all but dead in the eyes of all. The world is slowly being eaten away. Not by some great spirit such as Nidhogg, but by the foul scar of man across it's surface. Many have blamed man kind, but none truly acts to stop the slow spread of death across the land. In times of war and poverty the Earth had seen better days. The old powers grew tired of such a mundane death, for as creatures of perfect neutrality they saw no good or evil in the actions of the humans. So they saw no evil in their own actions either. They created the war, for that is what it is. Not a war that all can see and hear about on the news. But a war beneath the surface a few brave souls chosen at random from those who fit the criteria, against all the ancient forces that chose the opposition. Some forces could be changed, their manifestations something of less than perfect neutrality that could be bargained with. Some could not their manifestations something so evil that it became impossible for them to do anything but destroy. Overview The war is to be a long and hard battle. Humans and those who choose to side with them against all the ancient forces. The goals are simple, one hopes to destroy humans to allow the Earth time to recover, for even without them some new evil would take their place. The humans hope to stop the spirits from that end. Fight against them and win, and many of them hope to gain the power to heal the world in the process. But the third side are those powers that manifested in such a way that they were corrupted by that form which they chose to take. These made an enemy of all, and struck out against both the ancient powers and the humans. They sought dominion over all. The epic stories were to be reborn and every story needs it's heroes. Humans are to be given the gifts of ancient heroes. Forces of power in their own right, each human who receives one will be a part of the heroic party. These gifts come in many shapes and size, many but not all are represented by a physical item, something that can be held and wielded. Each hero however, had to learn his trade of battle, and each was given a method of how to do so. For one this could be a book that spoke of the ways of magic or the tactics of fighting. For another it could be a companion that whispers in their ear the ways of healing or war. For in the words of the powers “ To each will be given these things. An ancient relic of a heroes power, a guide to paths no longer traveled, a burning shard of lost things born anew, and a shining glimmer of a future horizon.” Holding true to ancient stories and ancient rituals the powers spoke in riddles and gibberish. What was to be given to the heroes chosen was lost in speculation. But it was known that the first would show them the second, and that the others would travel slowly in their wake. With the coming of the first would be the release of new powers, with the second would be the path to knowledge and power. The battle itself would not be some great war. But many small skirmishes fought using the weapons of old, and the special powers of both sides. No laws forbid the use of modern weapons, but their effectiveness is untested, and their stability unknown. Ancient Heroes The riddles and prophecy speak not of which of the heroes shall be called upon, and whether chance or luck will choose those that are brought forth it is not known. (To begin with there may be only one of each. Certain circumstances may allow there to be others. If I didn't include something someone thinks should be here. Suggest it and I will think about adding it.) Eldritch Warrior: The mage who holds a sword. This is the mage who takes the path of a warrior, magic is their first, blades their second. It is to support magic with sword play. (Reserved by Silvermourn) Spellsword: The warrior who wields a spell. This is the warrior who takes the path of the mage. Blades are their first, magic their second, to support sword play with magic. Tank: The unstoppable warrior. His body an adamant pillar of stone. Trained to withstand all punishment. To take down the Tank is the most difficult of tasks. It is too withstand all as an impenetrable wall. Ranger: The warrior of nature. He who slays from afar. The ultimate hunter, who's prey can never move beyond his reach. The ultimate archer and tracker. Assassin: The assailant from the shadow, masterful manipulator of stealth and cunning. His enemies never see him coming and his skills leave no door unopened. The rouge in the truest sense. Cleric: Divine wielder of holy power, the powerful healer and mage of light. Her power is that of the ancient unspoken gods. Wielding holy energy in her spells both to heal her allies and strike at her unholy enemies. Mage: The wielder of the arcane. The wizard in the tower who through careful study of ancient tomes wields ancient knowledge as a weapon. His power is that of the arcane, to change the laws of physics and to alter all that is reality. Swashbuckler: The dexterious warrior. The effortless user of the combat panache. She fights with wits and words as much as blade or fist. Her fighting style is not one of brute strength but one of skill and dexterity. Druid The wielder of nature. Nature's truth coalesced in a mortal form. The druid wields the power of nature as a mage does magic or a cleric does divinity. Her form is only limited by that which nature can create. Paladin The holy warrior of light. The Paladin fights with the holy sword of light in one hand and the shield of righteousness in the other. His skill with a blade is balanced by his skill with the holy magic of the gods. Knight The mounted and honorable combatant. He is the ultimate mounted and heavily armored fighter. His skill lies entirely in his power and skill with his blade and on horseback. Summoner The arcanist who relies on the powers of others. With his power he coerces and calls to him the powerful beings of magic and nature. Creatures come to his beck and call, and for him to fight along is to abandon his calling. For the Player The player may take control of one of these mystic heroes, one of the mythical creatures that chooses to aid them, or even a normal human who has discovered the plot. I may even allow some evil characters. You each start out in different locations, but the forces shall pull you together. Whether by chance, or by direct interference. Character Form Player Name: Character Name: Gender: Age: Race: ( The heroes must be human) Personality: Appearance: Possessions/Equipment: Short History: Special Hero additional information Hero Basis: (which hero above are you based off of.) Coat of Arms: (Color; basic appearance; not so important now, may be later) Relic of Heroes Power: (This is the item tangible or not that was found/given to the character that revealed their powers. Should be useful on it's own in some way.) Guide to paths no longer taken: (This is the item; creature; intangible force that was found/otherwise obtained by the character and constitutes a manual for the character to learn their new trade.) Character Player Name: Lord Silvermourn Character Name: Conner Talenway Gender: Male Age: 18 Race: Human Personality: His attitude is relatively clean, as of someone more sophisticated then he actually is for the most part. He puts it on as a show, but he is really a gentleman at heart. He is always trying to help, his greatest goal is to make himself useful in every situation. He tends to want to be good at everything which gives him some issues. Appearance: He stands at a little under 6 ft. tall and is built decently, not too thin, not overly fat. His appearance is rather broad shouldered and thin but his mind is more skilled than his body. He dresses roughly with a confederate flag patterned dew rag thrown over his light brown hair. A brown motorcycle jacket over whatever t-shirt he happened to have thrown on and typically blue jeans or cargo pants, whichever he managed to find crawling out of bed. He always wears a belt though something he finds necessary to keep his sometimes too big pants out of his way. Since his initiation his motorcycle jacket has had a rather stunning green glisten to it's leather, and it always sports a long curving blade through the shoulder strap that up until the swords placing there seemed to serve no purpose. The other shoulder strap always holds a small leather bound book stained with blotches of ink and a pen or other writing utensil. Possessions/Equipment: Extra clothing; travel equipment; motorcycle; heavy flamberge Special Hero additional information Hero Basis: Eldritch Warrior Coat of Arms: Colors: Orange and dark violet (I'm aware, but I actually like dark violet.) The symbol is roughly the sun, with the moon clinging to one side appearing to magnify the rays on that side into one great blade. Within the center is a swirl of mystic patterns. Relic of Heroes Power: Steel Robes: Split battle robes sewn from incredibly thin strands of adamantine. Uses magical power to deflect blows as well as being nearly impenetrable Guide to paths no longer taken: A small book that seems cliche even to him; explains techniques in a method only he can understand, but also supplies other information. Player Name: Teslyn Character Name: Kirsten Winslow [Kear-sten Wins-low] Gender: Female Age: 17 Race: Human Personality: Light and bubbly, she's an aspiring actress who's always had a thing with sneaking up on people from behind. Cheerful sarcasm is second-nature to her, and she's pretty sure that her ex-boyfriend was first interested in her because of her infectious laugh. With a sense of curiosity greater than a cat's, and a moral compass that doesn't quite point due north, Kirsten - called Winslow by some of her friends - is of the mind that the world should watch out for her. Appearance: Of average height - five-three - she's slender and slight, a quality she's used to win many a hide-and-go-seek game. Auburn hair cascades over her shoulders in waves, stopping at mid-back. Bright green eyes are set in a pale face with a small nose and very red lips. Those lips are always smiling - whether it be a seductive smile, a charming smile, a downright *****y smile, or a bright, innocent happy-go-lucky smile - it's there. Possessions/Equipment: Her clothes. Always looks nice; keeps up with the latest fashions and holy **** what the hell is that antique-looking dagger in her purse? and -- I thought hair sticks were way out of fashion. Short History: It started off when she was afraid of the dark; her brother had taught her that she could beat the monsters in the dark by being smarter, quieter, and quicker than it. What had at first been a mental sort of protection soon escalated into a game - could she catch her brother unawares? Her friends? Could she be completely, one-hundred percent silent? Undetectable? For those reasons, she'd taken gymnastics, learning to do flips and tumbles and be graceful at it - because with her and her actress's nature, looks were everything. Special Hero additional information Hero Basis: The Assassin Coat of Arms: A black rose whose thorny stem twists around a blood-red heart. Relic of Heroes Power: A small dagger, with magical properties that are included and are limited never having to be sharpened, and no fingerprints are ever left on it. Somehow, it always finds its way back to Kirsten. Guide to paths no longer taken: A small diary; the moment she picked it up along with the dagger... some essence entered her, and ever since then it's been giving most helpful advise. Player Name: Oracle Character Name: Alric Gender: Male ( I know it said her but Alric is my Saintly Character.) Age: 32 Race: Human Personality: Truthful, charitable. Desire to set things right has always haunted him. Appearance: Six foot tall, long brown wavy hair, blue eyes, slightly over-sized nose. His general attire is brown ranch type clothing, cowboy boots, and hat. Will incorporate all this into my intro. Possessions/Equipment: Camper/clinic, medical supplies. Short History: Has always had a heart for the people and devoted his life in medical missionary service. Presently he is running a mobile med clinic in the poorer districts of southern Texas. Special Hero additional information Hero Basis: Cleric Coat of Arms: Shield split into three parts, light blue on the top white on the bottom, the top two are lions rampant, the bottom a tree of life. In the center of the crest is a sunburst. Relic of Heroes Power: A sword hilt, when holy magic is used it forms a sword against the enemy or a healing light for those in need. Guide to paths no longer taken: Angel Arcane (female angel/immortal), appears in visions. Player Name: Efarrrrrr Character Name: Josephine ‘Jo’ Ahearn Gender: Female Age: 19 Race: Human Personality: The epitome of stubborn and wild, Jo is a force to be reckoned with. She’s the sort of person who will laugh in the face of her worst enemy, crack a lame joke while in a perilous situation, and always boast when she accomplishes something she’s proud of. If she isn’t grinning, something must really be wrong. Sometimes something is wrong and Jo won’t show it, just because she is used to holding her head high. Jo isn’t just a cavalier girl with an inflated head, though. She’s accepting, loyal, and likes to help out, and for these reasons has a number of friends that put up with her despite her craziness. Jo’s smarter than she lets on, with the brains to work herself out of most unpleasant positions. Although she is an artist, her art is one of very few things she will not brag about. Appearance: Jo is the opposite of many of the blond, stylish, mascara and coverup encrusted girls at her school. She keeps her flaming red hair long, allowing it to fly everywhere in its wild waves (no, I’m not talking about the theme park). Her teal green eyes are always on alert, darting from place to place even when she’s relaxed. Intense yet nearly always in good spirits, her face could be considered attractive. In general she likes to wear tops in brown and turquoise, colors that remind her of Arizona, her favorite place to visit. On occasion she will wear a nice skirt, but Jo’s happiest in a well fitting pair of jeans. She adores elaborate and large silver and turquoise jewelry. To see her without an impressive silver necklace and set of bangles would be as extraordinary as seeing the aurora borealis in the southern hemisphere. Possessions/Equipment: That cursed turquoise and silver jewelry of hers, along with her art knife, and her Purse of Doom. Only the brave dare to look into her Purse of Doom. It’s crammed full of old tissues, gum wrappers, nail clippers, sewing supplies, her cell, copper wire, wire cutters, electrical tape, work gloves, half a broken ruler, and random pieces of garbage. Short History: Her parents are to blame. That, at least, is Jo’s opinion on why she is what she is. When they told her she was unique and brilliant, she took their words to heart (and head). In grade school, she was always at the top of her class, and felt as though it was her birthright to reign over all the other children (except, of course, her friends and friends’ friends, who when added up were great in numbers). Jo was the tyrant of tag, opting to run down players of the opposing team and then football tackling them in a mud puddle rather than merely tagging them like any other player would. During her time in grade school she participated in sports ranging from soccer to swimming, and excelled in everything she put her mind to kick pundas at. Junior High tamed her somewhat, causing her to realize that she was not some sort of demon, and High School taught her that her energy should really be focused on something other than just competition and rivalry. Jo passed High School with flying colors, but she chose not to move up to college right away. Instead, she moved into a dilapidated house at the edge of a flood plane. The action might sounds counterintuitive, but not to Jo. Her plan is to work for a time in the office of her church, attend a community college, and then move up to a more esteemed college, from which she can find the idea job. Special Hero additional information Hero Basis: Swashbuckler (sounds like a kind of squash xd.png) Coat of Arms: (Sooooo confusing) Jo’s coat of arms is divided chevron style, with the majority of it being dark green, the chevron itself being white. At the point of the chevron sits a Cornish crow; the sinister side is a raguly line and the side is an embattled line. On the sinister side of the chevron there are two laurel leaves, and on the dexter side there is an alder leaf. To the sinister side of the shield there is a griffin rampant reguardant and to the dexter side there is a stag rampant. Relic of Heroes Power: A light, seemingly decorative sword with a silver and turquoise embellished hilt. Guide to paths no longer taken: A rather ragged crow, nicknamed Antonín Dvořák. Player Name: Elka Character Name: Diana Ellis Gender: Female Age: 17 Race: Human (what else, hippo?) Personality: Diana is a usually sensible, if slightly obsessive, person. She is fairly smart, especially in math and the sciences, but is not wont to boast of her skills. Because of her dedication to her work, she has little time to make friends, and her social skills might be a little lacking. In truth, she would far prefer to go for a run in the woods than a shop in the mall (especially on Black Friday!) Her sense of humor can at times be a little dark, but not vulgar. While she tends to be a little too secretive for her own good, she also is a loyal and kind person, if one becomes her friend. Until then, she can seem slightly distant from others, and often a little annoyed with them as well. Appearance: Diana is about five foot seven, and of average weight. Though she’s not a ‘super health nut person’, she is in fairly good shape, and tries her hardest to stay fit (something that her love of candy makes rather difficult at times). Her hair and eyes are pretty boring, the former being a rather ordinary brown and the latter an unremarkable greenish shade. Because much of her spare time is spent outdoors, Diana usually wears practical, usable work clothes or jeans, which are often caked with mud beyond recognition. One of her favorite mottoes is, “if it won’t last, why use it?” - a theme that is obviously reflected in her choice of clothing. That being said, she does have a soft spot for jewelry, which is slightly irksome even to her. Possessions/Equipment: Not really one for traveling heavily, Diana tends not to keep very much stuff on her at a time. She prefers to take as little stuff as possible, if for no other reason than that she hates carrying around a load of useless garbage. Usually, she brings with her only her clothes, a cell phone, money, ID, and her scissors, which have helped her cut her way out of many a sticky situation. Short History: Ever since she was a little kid, Diana has been a thinking person. She greatly preferred to spend her time sitting up in a tree, plotting how to best drop rocks on her rivals than to gossip about them. To her, actions definitely speak louder than words – talk just doesn’t cut it. The playground was her favorite place in elementary school, but she was continually banned from it for throwing rocks at children she didn’t like. As she got older, Diana also got better at controlling her temper, but she never lost her competitive streak or love for the outdoors. Currently, she is the head of her school’s Environmental club, as well as a group leader in ecology. She also is a devoted sprinter and fairly good at skiing, too. Special Hero additional information Hero Basis: Ranger (No, not the park kind, and no, she’s not a dude) Coat of Arms: Diana generally prefers to use a shield as her coat of arms, rather than the more traditional lady’s lozenge. The field is azure, and the charge is a Pacific Dogwood flower. The crest is a golden hind lodged. The sinister supporter is a silver stag rampant, and the dexter supporter is a black wolf rampant. Relic of Heroes Power: Diana’s relic is a simple maple wood bow, along with a quiver of raven-fletched arrows. She also was given a braided trillium necklace that is wrapped around a pendant of deep green aventurine (this is a special gift from the Hind). Guide to paths no longer taken: The Golden Hind, a large doe, seemingly gold in color, who is not at all like the ‘filthy, apple stealing’ deer that we know today. She is rarely seen, and hardly ever speaks. Her husband, the Silver Hart, is known as the Rangers' main guide, but the Hind chose to take over for Diana, likely because she is a girl. |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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| Silvermourn | Feb 15 2009, 09:59 PM Post #2 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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Current Happenings Silvermourn Drawing on his own excessive inability to accomplish anything at home he had left early that morning. Being home simply depressed him and out on the town he could think with so much more ease. At home he constantly felt obliged to clean and work on maitaining his house in his father's stead. Not having another man in the house made it a rather busy job as his mother spent only enough time at home to set up a list of things for him to do. So with simple pre-planning he had left home early enough to avoid that this morning, and cruising down the road on his Road King, he was very happy with the decision. His plans for that morning were very simple, he was going shopping for new junk. Junk was what his mother called the stuff his was constantly selling on Ebay. That was how he made all his money, and he made a rather large amount of money that way. It helped him to avoid the standard low class trash that his parents had always been forced to buy. He never bought anythign but exactly what he wanted. If he didn't have enough money he simply saved up and waited. Often this resulted in something better coming out on the market anyway, and often there was very little variation in price. With his slightly bare wallet in mind that morning he was heading to the pawn shops and garage sales. He hated being seen in places like that, it always made him feel poor, but the best deals and the most interesting things could always be found there. He was proud of many of his finds, and sometimes he even found himself attached to the strange things he bought. The nerdiest stuff and the most redneck of things sold the best, and as a result of his constant searching for things like that, it was also the stuff he liked the most. Which made selling off many of his finds rather difficult. Today his first stop was a pawn shop and pay-day loan establishment. They prayed on those who didn't have enough money to get buy, and then sold the stuff they traded for less than they paid and more than it was worth. As usual he drove his bike right up onto the sidewalk in front of the building before killing the engine. Leaving his helmet behind but taking his keyes he stepped inside hands in his pockets. This time of summer he wasn't wearing a jacket but he did miss the extra pockets. Withot a second thought he moved towards the back of the building and the nerd aisles. If a pawn shop really had aisles that was, it was more like shelves in a maze. Near the back wall he came into view of a large rack from which ung several swords. A few were new ones that hadn't been there before. Many of which at the outrageous prices they always seemed to think would sell, but never did. Others he had seen before and now they were only slightly misplaces, and the price tags had been hacked away at to be replaced with something new. All of those new numbers were considerably lower than less abused looking price tags on the newer items. Apart from the weapons they had several shelves of action figures, and a few of renaissance style clothing and armor. Those things were always big sellers for those who frequented ren fairs in costume. Conner himself had been to a few but he'd never gone in costume. For some reason he saw himself as above that, although looking at the shelves he saw a few items of armor he was sure would be interesting to wear. The problem was traditional armor didn't sell well, it was to hard to fit. So he turned to the set of combat cut robes beside the armor. It was something new he hadn't seen before. Cut as if to insure movement it was also considerably lighter than the average clothing, as if possibly it was intended to be worn over clothing. It was a dark irridescent green and was trimmed with dark violet and orange. The colors seemed like they should contrast more than they did which he found rather strange. The entire thing was dotted with small pockets and straps to hold additional items and even a few small dangling pouches. If he had been willing to be seen in the thing he would have worn it just for the pockets, the extra portable storage was especially nice. Taking the thing down from the shelf he slipped it on momentarily just to see what it would be like to wear it. As it slipped over his clothing a strange sense of difference passed over him. Not necessarily right, not necessarily wrong, but different, as if a whole new set of possibilities was suddenly opened. He felt light headed suddenly and his movements felt wrong, also different from what they had been. He suddenly seemed to be open to a part of his brain that hadn't been there before, and he was more aware of his surroundings then ever. Which was why although he wasn't surprised by the storekeeper walking up behind him he was embarrassed by the fact that he might be caught wearing such robes. Twisting wildly he spun smoothly to face the man walking up behind him almost seeming to fall into a battle stance as he did. The man behind him looked frightened suddenly as if the boy attacking him didn't look like a complete fool turning as if he was a brave warrior. Wearing what could easily be called a dress, something that Conner was still ashamed of. The middle aged man who ran the store seemed very happy to seem him and was even cheerful when he spoke even if he sounded a little uncertain. They knew each other rather well, the man sold him a lot of what he made his money on, and seemed to be happy in the knowledge that someone was making money on his junk. "Hey Conner, nice jacket, you pick that up around here somewhere? I didn't know you were looking for something new or I'd have put out some watch for one, although it looks like you found one all the same. I bought this off a guy for next to nothing, and when I saw you back here in that jacket I remembered how you like strange nerd junk. I thought it might sell well for you. I'm not asking much for it if you're interested come see me at the register." With at twist of his wrist the old man chucked a small book at him. The thing was obviously aged, whether naturally or chemically it hardly mattered. High quality leather lined the outside of the book and the thin pages seemed to be made from animal skin as well. A nice touch if it was for the nerd market, possibly just a notebook it didn't have any title anywhere. That old man was such a smart ass, Conner ashamed as he was did admire the man's sense of humor. Calling this strange robe a jacket was a decent joke on his expense. Looking down at himself he was surprised to see a heavy brown leather jacket where the robe used to be. The thing was in the general style of his own, although it had more pockets and a few more straps. The entire thing seemed to have an odd glimmer of the general colors of the robe throughout it, and his exposure to nerdome seemed to have given him some odd ideas about the potentially supernatural. His first thoughts after the sudden inital surprise were that he'd found a magical item. Something he'd picked up from a roleplaying game book he'd pawned a while back. Magical articles of clothing tended to change along with the needs and style of the user. He was even more ashamed that it was his first thought but the idea of such a thing existing immediately made the decision for him. He was buying a jacket or a robe, whatever the bastard thing was he was buying it. That brought him back to the book, it was a strange piece of paper. The thought of the game books gave him the idea that it might be such thing. So he quickly unraveled the chain that held it together and opened the book. Within he found the first page to be blank. As on a whim he placed two fingers in the middle of the page to feel the paper. Drawing his fingers apart he smiled at the smooth perfect crisp feel of the incredibly thin leather. Watching the book he nearly dropped it, he was sure the damn thing had grown in his hands. Looking at it he could see without doubt that it was easily twice the size it had been a moment ago, the size of a rather large novel. As he looked at it closer it was more like a rather large dictionary. Flipping another page he was relieved to actually find some writing. It took him a moment to read it, as if he was focusing on it from a distance. The words swam for a minute and then he was reading. Greetings Conner, fate has chosen you to read the book that I am. Once I was the greatest of the Eldritch Order, now I am the one chosen to light the path of the new warrior. In the center of the page a strange swirl formed into an image of a strangely altered sun. It's colors were those of the robes, and the random threades within his new jacket. He was already thinking of it as his jacket, how strange. To embrace the path is no longer a choice, but the speed on which you travel it is entirely up to you. As the Eldritch Warrior you must take up a blade, and learn the ways through the teachings within. To continue on one path you must first strengthen the other, pick one and follow the light. Beneath the words a sword and a symbol he could not discern appeared. Without a second thought he touched the symbol with renewed curiosity. His actions were those of a man in a trance, and for some reason he could not bring himself to disbeliev. Even as surprise coursed through his new awareness of his surroundings. With his touch the book shimmered and the pages flicked back to one beneath his hands. No longer did the words seem to spill to his mind, and the book once again seemed mundane. It's size was that which it had been when he was first handed the book, and the words on the title page read. Eldritch-Book of the Greatest Power; writings of the powers of the Eldritch Order and it's gifted. His mind free from the seeming enchantment he slammed the book shut and held it firmly in his hand. He would finish his shopping with this shop and then head home. He had some serious thinking to do, and no matter the nature of the novelty that had shocked him so this morning. He was not going to sell it, he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. Stepping towards the shelf of swords at the back, he looked them over. His personal favorite had for a long time been the flamberge hanging from the wall. He was sure it was the perfect weapon for him. A greatsword befitting a hero, and it would be a nice addition to either his wallet when he pawned it himself, or to his collection should he choose to keep it. To help his attitude towards it the price tag had dropped to under a 100 dollars, something he enjoyed. Lifting it from it's shelf he held it in one hand for a moment. It was heavy, and swinging it once he felt the muscles in his arm protest. So he gripped it with both hands and gave it a testing swing, he could wield it that way, it wasn't that heavy after all. Taking the sword, book, and jacket to the counter he purchased all three. The old man's smile as he saw the book barely fazed Conner, who normally would have felt it necessary to say something sarcastic at the sight of it. As he stepped outside he realized his dilemna, he wasn't sure how he was going to get the sword home so easily. He hadn't been planning on bringing anything so large back and it didn't have a sheathe, and he didn't have any bungee cords to strap it down with. He could use the straps on his jacket as a make shift holder though, and the one's on his shoulder formed a nice loop that up until that moment had seemed useless. Sliding the sword carefully into the loop he grinned as the slightly curved crossguard caught perfectly holding it in. The weight was a little awkward and the weapon hung nearly parallel to his arm. Position only a little back and to the side, but it was within easy reach of his right hand should it become necessary to draw the thing. Why he would ever need to draw the thing he couldn't fathom, he must really have been fazed by the entire book thing. His heart was beating faster then it should have been. Much faster, and he couldn't understand why, the adrenaline was the only explanation, but why was he excited about a book and a jacket? As he slipped into his bike seat and slid on his lid, he realized the sword wasn't in his way all that much, and looking down he could only see the swords outline above the pack of cigarrates thrust through his shoulder loop. That gave him another idea and he slipped the book into his other shoulder loop and roared out of the parking lot. As he headed for home he was almost feverish with his enthusiasm. He was excited beyond logical reasoning and he seemed to be know everything around him more intimately than ever before. His senses seemed to have grown more defined, and if at all possible he had picked up a sixth sense. The only problem was he didn't have a clue what purpose it served or what he was sensing. Only that he was sensing something new, in a way he hadn't sensed things before. It was almost like sight, only you didn't have to be looking at it to know it was there and it was almost like looking at light, except it didn't seem to follow any normal light pattern. Even as distracted as he was by the new happenings, wired up on something more than adrenaline and feeling like he had millions of volts of electricity powering his very heart. Conner never missed a beat on his driving. He was more aware of his surrounding than ever and even the extreme distraction didn't make him his old self. He was still performing better then ever, traffic didn't really seem to matter. He rolled out and around various cars and pedestrians, he simply ignored stoplights and dodged traffic that felt like the green lights gave them the right of way. For some reason he felt above the traffic lights, why should a machine tell him when to stop and go. That was a feeling he'd never felt before, he didn't like the idea of such a thing controlling human lives, he was disgusted by it. Pulling into his own drive way he slowed to a casual stop and leaped from the bike. His house was a small one just outside of town, there wasn't really much to be said about it. He lived there, his mother lived there and they parked their vehicles in the gravel driveway. No one did anything with the outside, he didn't have time and his mother hardly cared. As long as he maintained the house she was happy. On his way up the stairs her voice managed to catch him all the same. "Conner, did you find anything to sell? Make sure to do the laundry and clean up my breakfast dishes before you leave again." Her very voice grated at his ears. Not because he didn't love her, she was nice enough when there was nothing to do and she loved him deeply. He just wasn't always in the mood to be ordered around, and he always felt a strong sense of compulsion to do as she said. Today though he had better things to do, his need to read the little book and examine the jacket were greater than his will to help his mother out, or maybe it was his will to read that was greater, it didn't really matter. As he walked up the stairs he removed his helmet, and tossed it in the closet at the top of the stairs. Making a left he stepped into his own small, sparsely decorated room and removed the sword from it's new place on his jacket. As he did all of it's weight returned suddenly, and he nearly dropped it to the ground. Instead of dropping it he managed hold onto it and set it up gently in the corner. He was for the most part sure that the flamberge was normal. It was the book and jacket that had the strangeness about them. Flipping the jacket off he caught the book from it's place in the shoulder strap as he dropped the jacket to the bed, and with the book clenched in one fist he began to examine the leather jacket. As far as he could tell there was very little all that special about it. It seemed to have been made from a fiber he'd never seen before, and that in itself bothered him a little. For one it felt like an incredibly high quality leather on the outside, and on the inside it was lined with something he couldn't explain based on his experiences. It certainly felt like the fur of some animal, but it didn't really look that way. It just looked like plain polyester lining. On the outside however it didn't look plain the leather looked to have been dyed in impossibly small strands that ran throughout it. The colors shone with a rather metallic quality. As if someone had sewn metal into the jacket, but it didn't feel stiff as a result. Looking at thing was only giving him a headache and he collapsed into his bed on top of it. The damned thing even smelled like leather! Sitting up he put himself in a corner and opened the small book. The strange pages were incredibly thin and as he examined it he decided to begin reading it. If there was anything interesting or special about it, they would most probably be found within it's pages. Turning to the title page he began to read. Flipping page after page he consumed the words like sustenance. As he read time slipped away and it went by unnoticed. He was more than a little obsessed, and every moment of reading was accompanied by a sense of frustration. At first the book had been rather simple. It had explained a few things spoke of a strange order and an even stranger set of abilities and spells that they possessed. It even went so far as to list a spell or two. Calling them cantrips and proclaiming them uncreative and for the weak. Fit only for the most raw beginners. That short list of spells he didn't understand in the least was the last bit of even minorly coherent writing in the book. From there it all seemed to be theoretical as far as he could tell. More complicated then he could even begin to understand, but he couldn't stop reading. He was sure he was retaining only the smallest fraction of the information he was reading. Even theoretically the information was vastly entertaining to him, his mind simply wanted to continue the flow, continue to allow the words to soak slowly into his brain. By nightfall he had finished the book and began reading it again, flipping slowly through the pages. Not reading in order this time but piecing things together. As the light faded from the world he looked up from his reading and sighed. His eyes hurt and while the light in his room was decent it only came in from the door lamp outside. He could only just barely see the far side of his room and he needed to use the bathroom. Sighing again he stood and tossed the book on his bed, groaning when it landed open to the page of cantrips that spoke of a eldritch light in a way he couldn't begin to understand. As he looked at it his eyes lingered on the page. He read the page again and again. His mind began to take it apart, it found significance in things that didn't make sense. He was actually understanding the meaning in a roundabout way and reading in aloud in a whisper to himself it seemed to flow again in the way it had the first time he read it. Something clicked in his head and he felt his body and mind surge together as if a piece that had been separate was suddenly connected by the new awareness. As he looked the pages of the book had changed the front cover was different. Leaning down he picked the book up. Several things had changed. The title page was once again as it had been for his choice. A blank page, but this time the strange symbol wasn't there. Only the image of the sword. Stranger than that however, if it was possible. The book seemed to have grown some extra appendages. The front cover now folded out and a separate piece of leather now covered it, bound with another piece of chain. Opening it he found that his book now had two sections. This new one was completely blank however, and a small piece of charcoal sat within it. At least he assumed it was charcoal a small black length of something he could obviously write with. The small writing utensil was sharpened to a point, and even it of all things was carved with small runic symbols. Staring a them he seemed to decipher some meaning, it was likely that the thing would never wear down, nor ever need sharpening. With a sort of fog over the section of his brain the questioned his actions he began to scratch away at the paper. That's what it looked like anyway, the scratchings and scribblings of a deranged man. He understood it though, it was his understand of light, the theory of light. That part of his mind that understood the section of the book also understood his writings here and the page he was writing on began to develop a character of sorts. The scribbled lines formed a web work pattern, going around each other instead of in a straight line. It's complications were endless and no other would be able to understand it, he was innately sure of it. Scribing the last letter of his understanding into the book, he set it down and stood. Total darkness had fallen the automatic light on their porch had gone off. It didn't bother him very much however, he spoke gently, murmuring in the language he was sure he had just been writing in. As he did the newfound knowledge in his mind began to burn, it burned away at the energy, the strange new adrenaline. Then the burning was gone and light filled the knowledges place. Even as it filled the air around him with a vibrant glow. Light emanated from his body in all directions, lighting it brighter then the sun ever would have. He moved into action quickly his door was shut so his mother wouldn't see it but his window wasn't so the neighbors might. He wasn't so overwhelmed with his new found skills that he didn't understand the risk of being cut up like roswel to discover why his pores shed light. With his mind he dimmed the light, let it glimmer down in his mind. The corner that was his understanding like a dimming lantern. He smiled as the light dipped noticeably towards a point where it was less noticeable. Now came the problem of direction, he wanted to be able to control where the light went. He didn't want it shooting off from him in all directions to awaken his mother. That would be an awkward conversation, explaining to his mother why her son was glowing like the sun. His own stupid pun brought a smile to his face while he examined his own thoughts. That corner of his mind, that fragment of understanding seemed to control the light, so to change the light he had to change it, that went with intensity so why not with location. So that was what he did, in essence he changed were he understood the light to be. It was much like a computer that way, the base code determined everything about it, and the code was his understanding, that strange gibberish he could somehow make sense of. If not read in the general understanding of the term read. As he changed it the light moved. There was no break in time between it being everywhere and then in the palm of his hand, no sudden flow, no jump, only everywhere and then in one place. The intensity didn't change only the location so he held in his palm a light he could direct, one he could close off by simply making a fist with his hand. Cupping his hand he forced the light into a semblance of a beam and went off to do his business walking back into his room slightly distracted as he attempted to manipulate the light away from his body. For some reason he couldn't send it away from him, he wasn't really sure why. Still making an attempt he stared at the sword leaning against his bed, attempting to force the light onto the sword. Even going so far as to point the light at the sword and try. It didn't work so in one last attempt he moved to lift the sword, as soon as it touched his non light afflicted hand it began to glow, his forced change suddenly sliding into place with frustrating ease. He understood immediately however, he had to be in contact with an item for such a thing to work. He couldn't simply force it away from him he had to be in contact with it. It made some sort of sense but he wondered if it had to be flesh contact. So taking the light back to his hand he attempted to send it to the floor, failing miserably, and confirming his theory. It had to be flesh contact, he couldn't simply force something into the ground and into something else through it. So why would he be able to force it through his shoes? He had already decided he wasn't going to be getting much sleep that night so he sat down on his bed and once again opened the book. Immediately he saw the separation, and then he saw the title page. Still locked into the image of a sword. He didn't want that he wanted the book he had been reading, he wanted the magic! Flipping through the pages he found them all blank, completely without writing, not even so much as an ink stain. Groaning he flipped back to the title page and touched the sword, sighing as he watched the book slam shut of it's own accord. Flipping the book open once again with a sort of hopeless compliance, Conner examined the new title page once again. Eldritch-Book of the innate skill- Writings if the unknown talent. That title was almost as obscure as some of the passages in the last book had been, and it was at the very beginning of this book! He knew the worst to understand was upon him when he turned the page. All he saw there was a picture, or at least he thought it was a picture. He could make out nothing definitive about it and as he looked at it he got caught up in examining it. He looked at every little piece, ever pixel of the image if that was possible. I seemed to be that his new awareness interfered with his understanding of the image. He couldn't make sense of it and he was so fully occupied with examining the image beneath the light from his glowing palm that he lost track of time. Every piece of the image seemed to suggest something to his mind, and as he examined the information seemed to be translated through his mind to his body. Electric surges seemed to jump from his mind to his muscles. He could feel it running through him, it was the same as the strange sort of adrenaline he had felt earlier, but somehow it was slightly different as well. As he went he moved farther down the image his body surging with new current, his mind working to translate the image. As he reached the bottom of the image the last corner of it, his mind reached the end of it's translation. He understood now three things more clearly than anything from the first book. First he needed to choose a weapon, to do so he simply had to picture the symbol that was the second thing he understood and force it into the weapon. His mind would follow and then so would his body in a way. Third he could then direct his new energy into the weapon, and through it into another, something he would be able to do with no other item not specifically made for that purpose. Attempting to look back down at the page he saw that the book was closed, and opening it he found no new section, and the title page once again offered a choice, this time with both options readily available. One new thing adorned the book though the front leather cover of the part that included what he was already calling his spell book, had been changed a map of incredible intricacy now ran across it's surface. It depicted the entire world, but much of it was to small to read. He understood something then, placing his fingers in the center of it he drew them apart. Smiling to himself in a rather absurd way he watched as the map itself grew and the place he had been in contact with began to take up a larger portion of it. He could see his current location clearly marked with a miniscule dot of orange light. Near his location was a boxed in area that clearly represented were he supposed to go. Somehow he understood that, and didn't question it. He wasn't questioning it any longer, it had showed him how to make light with his mind and a few words. Something he had previously thought impossible. He was going to leave, at the worst he broke his ties with his family to become obsessed with some cultist power, but he didn't really believe that. At the best he learned the power and bettered his own life and the lives of others. He didn't really trust the book or the jacket but he felt like they were the only route to something new and better he would ever find. His heart hurt at the thought of leaving his mother, and the few distant friends he had in this town, but he didn't care enough to stay. This was so much more than that and as he threw on his jacket and slipped the book into the shoulder strap he reached for the sword. His hand stopped a few inches from it, should he choose this weapon? It was obviously well made, high quality and well crafted, but it was nearly too heavy, and he certainly couldn't wield it in one hand like he would have preferred. As caught up in the story spun by the book as he was, he didn't even question the need for a weapon, a need for a weapon he could use. He decided eventually that he couldn't go very long without a weapon, he understood the need for haste now, he believed he would need it as he believed the book didn't lie to him. Even if he came to regret those decisions in the future, he would still make them now. Lifting the weapon he allowed the image of a burning sun to form in his mind. Burning violet and orange flowing off of the great sphere in massive spikes. A shining crystal moon connected to one side, the rays moving through it magnified into a great spike. Then he pushed the image into the weapon with his mind. Shimmering it appeared on the blade, the many arcs floating back into the handle, and the great arc pushing outwards with the blade. A momentary glow passed over the entire weapon and he felt himself flowing into it. When it was done he felt the last of the new energy flowing out of him. The light disappeared from his hand, and the understanding in his mind seemed to lose it's definition. It was nearly morning and he needed to begone before his mother awoke if he was ever going to leave without tears. Even as suddenly exhausted as he was he sheathed the sword in it's new place at his shoulder. The carton of cigarettes took it's place and he frowned. He didn't smoke but there was nothing he could do about it. He already had long distance travel bags attached to his bike, and several hundred dollars intended for purchasing new pawn shop junk in his wallet. Quickly packing a bag with clothes and other things he thought he might need he threw it over his shoulder and stepped outside. Hooking the bag to his bike he dropped his lid onto his head and buckled it into place. Letting up his kickstand he began to roll the motorcycle down the driveway and out onto the road. He needed to get away from his house before he started the bike, he didn't want to wake his mother and have to explain things. He'd left a note telling her he was heading to a winter break party and that he'd be back sometime after school started again. She'd probably believe him, he'd never lied to her before so she didn't have any reason not to trust him. This was an evening for firsts as it went, and he was completely exhausted. So as he moved it out of range of sight and hearing he started the bike up and roared out of town. The feel of the wind against his face through the open helmet kept him awake for a while, but he was barely out of town by the time he felt the need to stop. So at a road side motel he payed for a room for the rest of the night. The owners none to happy about being awake hadn't been very helpful so he simply passed out onto the bed. More exhausted then he had been in a long time. |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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| Silvermourn | Feb 15 2009, 10:29 PM Post #3 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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Teslyn She was quiet as a mouse; no, quieter. Her breathing was soft and regulated - if something gave her away, it wouldn't be noise. She was dressed to blend into the shadows - sort of - in skinny jeans, and a black spaghetti-strapped babydoll top. The only thing that might've caught someone's eye was the gold flats, but she had done this enough times that she wasn't going to get caught. At least, not this early in the game. Trailing her brother was a hobby of hers; she always timed him to see how long it took for him to notice her. Her standing record was four hours - she had had to quit to get to a gymnastics meet - and the average time was about two hours, depending on where he went. Today, he had wended his way through the streets of Boston, which meant she had been following him quite easily for a little over a half-hour now. Two perfectly waxed eyebrows had risen in surprise as he took a sharp turn down a sketchy-looking road. Taking a quick look around to make sure nobody was following her or being weird in general, she had quickly followed him, and that was where she was now. Trying to be perfectly undetectable, and wondering just what the hell her her twenty-one-year-old idol was up to when out of abso-****ing-lutely nowhere a masked person dashed out of an alley-way; turning, he knocked over a garbage can and rolled it in presumably what was the direction of his pursuer. A gunshot echoed in the alleyway as the pursuer exited; her brother wheeled around and shouted, "Run, Kirs!" He had known she was there. He had been playing along in the game, taking random roads - and during this game, he had happened to run into something of a criminal nature - and - and - The bullet ricocheted off of a fire escape exit; or some bullshit like that. All Kirsten knew was that it somehow found its way into her brother's leg and had buried itself there. "Ed!" she yelled, rushing forward. The man running turned to her in surprise, and flung something at her. The predictably sharp projectile gleamed in the sun, and as it came straight for her, she stepped to the side and snatched it out of the air by its hilt. Holy ****, she thought, eyes widening in incomprehension even as the man with the gun shot the man who had thrown the ancient-looking knife before turning the gun on herself and firing. She followed her instincts; what instincts they where, where the hell they had been all her life, and why the hell they had just decided to pop up now of all the random times in her life, she spun to the side, narrowly missing dying by some stranger's weapon. Reflexively - certainly not her reflexes, they couldn't be, because she didn't have deadly reflexes like that - she flung the knife she had caught in the man's direction. It buried itself in his chest with deadly precision, and she caught herself smirking with the satisfaction of achieving yet another bull's eye - what? Thoroughly confused, she dashed forward to the man she had just ****ing killed, and somehow managed to wrest the knife from his chest. It had no blood on it whatsoever. Eyes widening, her body moved not of her own accord; it walked over to the other man - the one who'd been shot - and pulled a leather sheathe that looked centuries old out of his bag, along with a small leather-bound book. Something sparked when her fingers touched the book; she... she felt different ... Quickly shoving the diary and the knife into her purse, she pulled out her cell, suddenly remembering her brother lying on the road. Rushing over to help him, she found him unconscious. It was with more than a touch of hysteria that she dialed 9-1-1. Efar “What d’ya mean by ‘he got the banner stuck in the tree?’” Jo nearly fell from the rolling office chair, her laughter propelling it several feet backwards. The decorations manager of the church, Mrs. Harrison, was clearly not amused. With a look of disapproval, the severe woman took a seat at one of the benches normally reserved for visitors; Jo had stolen her own chair. “What I meant, Josephine, was that the advent banner in currently sitting atop the Christmas tree in the social hall. You’re the only one done with your work early, so it’s your responsibility. Pull yourself together and deal with it!” Mrs. Harrison barked, beyond frustration. She crossed the room with the speed of a cheetah, and gestured sharply for Jo to get herself out. Jo stretched and groaned before leaping lightly from Mrs. Harrison’s chair. She walked quickly out the door, her step springy and cheerful as her grin. Before exiting, she snatched up a coat hanger from the coat rack. Mrs. Harrison gave her a odd look, but she ignored it, of course. The silver bangles around her wrist jangled merrily as she made her way to the social hall, where an enormous fir tree loomed. As Mrs. Harrison had said, the burgundy colored advent banner was perched in the upper branched of the fir. Jo raised an eyebrow, thinking to herself that the tree looked a little like it was wearing a strange sort of hat. Getting it down wouldn’t be an issue, she thought. She had access to the rafters, after all… Digging around in her horrendously messy purse for the keys to the walkway in the rafters, Jo hopped up the stairs two at a time. She put as much energy and attention into a simple task as retrieving a banner as a Search and Rescue would put into plucking a hapless hiker from a cliff face. However, Jo was always a bit more creative in her way of doing things than the average person. Walking confidently on the high rafter walk way, she snatched up a broom the custodian had left leaning against the railing. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she tore the bristle pad from the broom, and in its place she shoved the ‘borrowed’ coat hanger. Jumping up on the rail so that she sat securely (in her opinion, anyways) on top of it, Jo reached down with the broom to snag the advent banner with the hanger. Although she managed to catch the banner on the end of it, the flag was heavier than it looked, and she couldn’t budge it much. Frowning, Jo twirled the broom around several times so that the banner’s end was wrapped around the hanger. Then, she scooted backwards, pulling the broom and therefore the banner after her. In no time, the banner had fallen from the tree- but it almost took Jo with it. Nearly overbalancing, she let go of the broom just in time as the heavy banner pulled it down to the ground. She winced as it fell to the concrete floor with a loud smack. After quickly running down the stairs to fix the broom and dust off the banner, she hauled the banner back into the office, leaving it folded neatly for Mrs. Harrison. Her work done for the night, she locked up her file cabinets and walked out the door, absent-mindedly whistling ‘Hips don’t Lie’. Once finished, she danced out the door, bangles announcing her departure. She spied Mrs. Harrison in the social hall as she left; the older woman was watering the Christmas tree. “Night, Mrs. Harrison!” Jo called, addressing the fleece-clad back hunched amidst the fir branches. It was then that Mrs. Harrison made what was probably the first and last mistake of her life. She attempted to stand up. As she did so, she knocked the tree’s base askew, and was forced to scurry out from under it as it toppled to the floor with a crash loud enough to wake the dead. For once, Jo did not break out into raucous laugher. Rather, she stood and stared, a look of despair on her face. It was going to be a very long night of sweeping up needles and calling parish officials. <|><|>~|xJx|~<|><|> It was almost midnight before Jo pulled out of the church’s long driveway, the wheels of her little grey Honda Civic splashing in puddles than had formed in the streets. Though the rain came down hard, Jo had opened all of the windows. As usual, while making her way to the one bedroom, musty, drafty house that she rented at the edge of a flood plane, she loudly belted out songs ranging from classic Christmas songs in Latin to a couple of songs from Sweeney Todd. She was in the middle of a song that mentioned eating priests when she pulled into her gravel driveway. Jo was cheerful despite the dreary weather as she unlocked the door to the lonely little house. “I’m hoooome!” she called down the entry way, her voice echoing back at her. Of course, she was not addressing any living being in the house, merely announcing her presence to the stuffed elk head her landlady had fixed above the only fireplace. Imagine Jo’s surprise when a croaking voice replied, “Hello!” Jo, as it happened, was always a high strung individual. However, hearing an intruder in the house was enough to enough to set her brilliant red hair standing on its ends. “Alright, who’s in my house? I’m warning you, I’m armed!” she snapped authoritatively. Crud. Of course I’m not armed! Jo thought as she began to dig furiously though her purse, searing for something that looked remotely imposing. Eventually, after wasting over a minute dumping tissues, tape, and gum wrappers from the bag, she came up with a can of pepper spray and a pair of wire cutters. It’s better than nothing… I hope… “Okay! Here’s the deal, you! I come in, and you get out. Take whatever you want; all I have in this miserable hut is garbage. Just leave!” Jo hollered, walking as confidently as anyone without a gun could in the dark, alone, towards something that could possibly be serial killer. Fortunately for Jo, it was not a serial killer that awaited her in the kitchen/living room/dining room of the house. At first, she saw nothing. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she wondered if she had either gone completely mad or had heard a ghost. “Come out, you. I don’t want anyone hiding in my house,” she said threateningly, though she felt more than a little unprepared with only the pepper spray and wire clippers to defend herself. “Nooo!” the voice called out again suddenly, causing Jo to whirl around and chuck the wire clippers at the source of the noise. She barely refrained from pressing the trigger on the top of the pepper spray can, remembering that she would have to live in the house, after all, and filling it with the nasty stuff would make it practically uninhabitable. The clippers flew wide of their target- or rather, the target flew wide of the clippers. “Caw! Caw!” the crow cried into the darkness, flapping away from its perch and onto the fireplace. “A bird?! You mean to say I just nearly gave myself a heart attack because there was a bird in the house?!” Jo snarled, throwing her hands into the air in annoyance. She went on to mumble, “need lights…” After switching on the dull florescent bulbs, she turned to glare at the seemingly laughing corvid that gazed at her from the hearth with beady, intelligent eyes. The crow had rather ragged wings, and was thinner than any healthy bird. “Caw!” he croaked cheerfully, hopping from the mantle and swooping over to alight on a bar wedged between the stuffed elks head’s impressive rack of antlers. For the second time that day, Jo did nothing but stare for at least a minute. At last, she said faintly, “I thought the raven was supposed to say ‘nevermore’, not ‘hello’.” The crow coughed out a disapproving call that sounded as if he were trying to say ‘crow’, correcting Jo after she had called him a raven. Then he began to drum on the cattail mat wrapped bar that the elk carried in his antlers. He cawed impatiently as Jo didn’t move but rather watched his movements with wide eyes and an open, awed mouth. “Oh! Me gets it now! You want me to pick up that bar thing! You’re like some sort of fairytale crow that leads princesses to their doom and helps out evil wizards!” she announced, before being cut off by the frustrated cawing of the crow. “Oh, so no damsels gone bad or wizards in distress? Fine… That’s a shame. I was hoping that this little dream I must be having would at least include some magic.” The flustered crow leaped from the elk’s head, and with one last loud caw, flew up the chimney and out of the house. As he left he was sure to whack Jo over the head with his wing. Jo swore in response, and muttered something rude about Santa Claus and nightmares. Rearranging her necklace and bangles, Jo decided to go ahead and do as the crow had apparently wanted her to do. She strode over to the elk’s head and violently wrenched the bar from its antlers, before tossing it onto the rickety table in the center of the room. It landed with a surprisingly loud clatter that caused Jo to raise an eyebrow in incredulity. How fitting for a crow to bring her a crowbar. Jo tore the cattail wrapping off of the package with caution, just in case a rattlesnake or something else dangerous was hidden within the package. However, she did not find a reptile in the package; in fact, its contents were much more exciting than a reptile could ever be. In the light of the florescent bulb Jo saw a faint flash of metal as she unwrapped her present, then the beautiful color of her favorite stone: turquoise. The fine sword that sat atop the table practically dazzled Jo. She carefully went over its every detail, admiring the beautiful blue stones and delicate silverwork that decorated the hilt and the insanely shape blade shone brightly in her dark house. Whoa… Wait a minute, dummy. Rule one, do not trust birds bearing gifts, especially dangerous ones. This is so messed up. I need a new pair of socks, really, not a sword, and besides, this isn’t some stupid fantasy novel… I should really go and find the owner of this thing. They’ll want it back, Jo thought. She reached out and picked up the sword in spite of herself, surprised at how light it was. Unlike some of her old friends from her grade school days, she had never taken fencing. All she knew came from watching her best friend’s sabre tournaments. Forget the real owner, I want to see how this work. “Okay, don’t laugh,” Jo said to the stuffed elk’s head, turning to face the large, open kitchen/living room/dining room, the sword held out in front of her. With the speed of a sprinter leaping from the blocks, she lunged to skewer a large dictionary on the end of the sword. Pretty decent for such a pretty piece of work, she thought. Drawing the sword out of the dictionary, she wrapped it back up in the cattail mats and placed it on the table. She would make an add in the lost and found of her city’s newspaper announcing that she had found the sword, and return it to them when they contacted her. Jo would be sad to part with the sword, but after all, she really had no need of it. <Copied by Elka - start of second post, complete with Efar notes> (Oy, I've been rushed!) Jo ended up sleeping on the torn sofa rather than in her bed that night. The rain dripped steadily from the patchy ceiling into her room, and she couldn’t stand being in a drippy room. The fact that she had placed pots all around to catch the water changed little. The sword, tidily wrapped up in the cattails, remained near Jo as she slept. She left a note on it reading, “Dear thief person, My house is not a storage locker. Please do not leave any more weapons or shiny things in it. If you come back in the night, take this stupid thing back so I don’t have to deal with it. Thanks, Jo.” Unfortunately, no one ever came to retrieve to sword. As Jo woke up, the pale light streaming in through her clean but old windows revealed that sword had not been moved. She groaned inarticulately as she rolled out of bed, then yelped sharply as her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. Jo stiffly snatched up the cattail package, carrying it off to the kitchen/living room/dining room. She left it lying on the table as she poured herself a bowl of milk and Wheaties. Breakfast of Champions! How fitting! she thought, a stupid grin adorning her face as she shoveled the cereal into her mouth. When she had finished her breakfast, Jo hastily washed her bowl in the sink, then went to brush out her hair and change into street clothes. As usual, she wore blue jeans and lots of silver and turquoise jewelry. Remembering that she was off from work that day, she stepped into her nearly knee length, soft tan leather boots. She sang a random song she had heard on the radio the day before as she zipped them up, swaying to the beat. Her bangles chimed brightly as she straightened up. It was then that Jo remembered that she had planned to advertise the sword in the newspaper. Sighing with great melodrama, she strolled back to the kitchen table. She found an old, half-dried Papermate pen, and with it began to write out a scripted advertisement to place in the Lost and Found. It took her a surprisingly long time. Jo had difficulty answering questions such as, “Where did you find the item in question? To whom would you guess it belongs to?” It hardly seemed appropriate to answer, “In my elk’s head. A random medieval guy.” Besides, if she had any clue who the sword belonged to, she wouldn’t be placing anything in the Lost and Found. Finished, she lightly jogged out to her car, sword in tow. She carelessly tossed it in the backseat as she let off the emergency break and put the car in reverse, backing out of her long gravel driveway. On the road, she purposefully aimed the car for puddles. She had never quite grown out of her childish enthusiasm for watching water splash into the air. In about fifteen minutes she had reached the city hall, a safe place where she could drop off the sword until its rightful owner came forward. Upon stepping out of her car, however, she heard a familiar croaking voice. “Hello!” is rasped. Jo looked over her shoulder with dread. Sure enough, the crow she had seen the previous day was sitting atop a parking meter, his sharp black eyes fixed on the cattail wrapped sword. “Oh no, not you,” Jo muttered. Ignoring the ebon corvid, she walked briskly towards the door of the city hall, the heels of her boots clicking on the pavement like a horse’s hooves. She had hardly made it a few feet before a large and surprisingly heavy object slammed into the side of her head. “OW! Geez Louise! What the heck?!” Jo snapped, glaring at the crow. The bird gazed up at her from the ground, a mischievous look on his feathered face. He clicked his bill sharply before taking to the wing and flapping up into the air, threateningly hovering above Jo’s head. Jo glowered up at the crow, her red hair, mussed by the bird, springing up about her head like a halo. “Don’t you dare,” she growled, and began to walk towards the door again. This time, the crow flew up and smacked her in the face with his wing. The words that came spewing from her mouth are best if left untyped. The two spent a long time testing each other. Jo attempted to get past the crow and into city hall, but couldn’t. She had no idea why the bird wasn’t allowing her in until she noticed that he held a slip of paper marked with ink pen clamped tightly in his beak. “My ad!” she shouted, charging towards the crow. She ignored the odd looks she got as she chased the bird down the street. Her boots clomped noisily on the ground as she raced after the crow, who was leading her cheerfully off towards the park, far away from the city hall. Jo was no idiot. She had gone through the entirety of high school on the honor roll, and excelled at beating everyone in mathematics competitions. She was not, however, bright enough to figure out that the crow wanted her to keep the sword until she was already nearly two miles from her car and completely out of breath. Oracle Alric slumped forward, resting his head on his arms. His long dark hair fell over his shoulders as he let his thoughts drift over the days events. His crystal blue eyes, feeling hollow, closed in a moment of rest. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to catch up or make a difference. America says, "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" The truth is however, a bastion of mockery, she too has become filled to the brim with pompous self-righteousness. Her golden door tarnished with greed. Her own huddled masses failing by the hundreds of thousands, sick, poor and without succour. He had been striving against the course of humanity for seven years now. Had he made any difference at all? Like every other night he ran his hands through his hair and vowed to continue for one more day. The people that came to him had no where else to turn. Some he helped with food, others with medical care. It was pitifully poor compared to their needs. Why did the rich think the lives of the poor were any less valid? He shook his head as he wondered again, how long it would be? Before the poor rose up in opposition? Before the floodgates of anger called for retribution and blood? Standing, he pulled off his white office coat, and hung it on the peg. Reaching in the refrigerator he pulled out a day old turkey sandwich and a V8. Maybe his outlook would improve with something in his stomach. Slightly restored from the meal he finished with a quick shower and a change into his leisure clothes, brown denims and a brown plaid flannel shirt. After shoving his feet into his boots he plucked his Akubra hat off the wall and headed out the door. Stopping short upon seeing Helga standing there with her cart, she peered up at him with an undecided look on her face. "Bet cha weren't expectin' me, now was ya?" She shot him a toothless grin. "Helga, it's good to see you. Why didn't you come by today?" his low deep voice was full of concern. Though she did look well, she had been suffering from a chronic cough for months now. "No need ta come by, no my no. The cough is gone, indeed it is, miraculous like." She stopped to grin at him again. "No, I came by because she told me too. I found it, and she told me ta bring it to you." She began rummaging through her cart, "I know it's here. She told me ta keep it safe. Ah ha! I knew I hadn't lost it." She shoved a bundle wrapped in a deep brown sweater at him. "There you go. She said you'd be needing that." Before he could stop her she turned her cart, skedaddled around the corner and was gone. Lowering himself to the bus step, he slowly unwrapped the sweater. The feel of it was pleasant to his fingers, like fine thick cashmere. It appeared in good condition too. What was odd though, was what it contained. It appeared to be a silver sword hilt. Strange, he thought, no blade, just an empty slot where it should be. Elaborately made of fine filigree, it appeared quite old. The strands were spun to create scenes of all sorts of natural creatures, including man. It was truly a work of art. For some odd reason he was hesitant to touch it. There was a strange vibration echoing from it, as it shimmered in the glow of a distant street lamp. Tentatively he reached out to it with his forefinger, and felt a surge of well being infuse him. Encouraged he wrapped his hand fully around the hilt. The shock that coursed through him, sent him to his knees. His breath stopped, as a soft glow filtered around him and he looked up, transfixed by the eyes of an angel. He wasn't sure how long he looked up at her, transfixed. It could have been minutes, hours or days. Her delicate voice flooded through him resonating against his bones. Though he understood every word she spoke, he couldn't remember just what it was she told him. The only thing he knew for certain was, it was danged uncomfortable waking up face down on the sidewalk. ~ Pushing himself to his feet, he began wondering how much was real and how much was dream. He was wearing the sweater, but couldn't remember ever putting it on. He was also still gripping the silver sword hilt. It wasn't vibrating anymore, and apart from looking unique, it seemed quite ordinary. He stumbled a bit groggily to the bus. Once inside he glanced haphazardly at the mirror, then stopped short. His hand shot up to the streaks of white hair, emanating from his temples. Dang, I look like a skunk! He stood perplexed for a moment when the memory of the angel re-surged. She had grasped his temples, just before he passed out. He felt weak again just with the memory of her, but with that memory came the sudden, powerful desire to get moving. Without further thought, he made his way to the drivers seat, and in moments had the bus on the road. He didn't know where he was going, only that he needed to get there. Elka Though the sun was bright in the sky, the temperature was still far too cold for Diana’s tastes this afternoon. Shivering in her light shirt, which was far too thin for this weather, she sat on the bank of the pond next to her school, scribbling furiously in her notebook. She had come out here after school to work on a project that her ecology teacher had assigned her to do, one that involved taking samples of water and soil of the pond and testing them for Nitrate, pH, soil texture, and other aspects of the pond. The work was tedious and repetitive; not at all what she wanted to be doing in her spare time after school. Even though she usually loved ecology Diana could hardly wait until the project was over and done with. Today, the Nitrate levels seemed especially high, something that Diana found slightly vexing. It probably meant that the workers at the nearby baseball field had just fertilized the grass again. Soon all the other chemical and nutrient levels would be messed up too, which would leave her graphs a mess. With a sigh of frustration, Diana closed the lid of the box of testing equipment with a loud snap, causing a frog nearby to let out a shrill alarm call. “Aya, do you need to be so loud?” she asked the amphibian in annoyance, picking up her stuff and getting ready to leave. On her way out, she tripped over a log, stumbling into the mud with a groan of frustration. The box was so cursed heavy, it was a wonder she hadn’t gone sprawling in the mud. After much slow, ponderous progress, Diana eventually made it all the way back to the science supply shed behind her classroom. Setting the box down again, she opened the door and unceremoniously tossed the expensive equipment into a far corner. Diana wandered out of the shed, rummaging in her purse for her car keys as she walked. Strangely enough, she couldn’t seem to find them anywhere. She stopped and turned back towards the pond, in the hope that they had just fallen out. There seemed to be a faint disturbance in the woods near the baseball field as Diana walked past. Curiously, she peered into the dimly lit area behind the fence, listening to the raucous cries of angry crows, and, strangely enough, what sounded like a person talking back at them. Diana’s inquisitiveness won over her, and she squeezed through the gap between the gate and the fence into the woods. As soon as she got through the gate, however, the voice stopped, as though embarrassed to be heard. “Curse it,” Diana muttered feeling a little disappointed that she hadn’t gotten to see who it was. But as she turned back to the fence, Diana slipped on a wet, slippery and leaf-covered log, slamming her head into a tree and sending her tumbling off her feet. “Ow…” she groaned, rubbing her sore noggin grumpily. While still bemoaning her much-abused skull, her attention was suddenly caught by a faint flash of light in the dark, muddy leaves of the forest floor. Feeling a twinge of apprehension, she nudged at it with her toe. With a jolt, she realized what the strange object was – it was an archery bow, right in the middle of the school’s property! This discovery left Diana with quite a conundrum. If she was found with a bow on school grounds, she could be expelled. On the other hand, if she left it there, whoever had stored it in the woods might come back, and possibly use it to do bad things. Diana weighed these possibilities against each other, and then made her decision. Muttering a curse, she bent down to pick the bow up. As she did so, a shock ran through her, seeming like an electric shock. “Curse it, blasted thing, ow ow ow!” she shouted, dropping it and skittering backwards across the ground. “Now, was that really necessary?” a voice behind her stated calmly, seeming to come closer to her as it talked. Diana turned around to see a truly astonishing sight: a golden doe was lightly walking towards her, her footsteps even and well measured, and her fur shining like a distant sun. “Oh… no,” Diana stammered, sitting quickly down on a nearby log. I must really have hit my head hard on that tree… she thought, mildly amused by the situation. The doe seemed not to notice her awkwardness, something for which Diana was grateful. Instead, she appeared to be looking her over, in an almost appraising fashion. “Well, it is an interesting one that we got this time, I must say,” the doe stated, watching the girl closely. “Not too fearful, not too crazed, just the way they should be in my opinion,” Listening to the deer’s words, Diana could make neither head nor tail of what she had said. “Excuse me, but what is this all about?” she asked a little more steadily, standing up again. Yep, I’ve really gone loony, talking with the animals. “Yes, I suppose I should be getting to that,” the doe said with an odd noise that sounded vaguely like a laugh. “I am the Golden Hind, if you do not know already, as I fear such information has recently become less widely known. Together with my mate, the Silver Hart, we are protectors of the forest, guardians of woodland secrets, and guide to the Rangers who once guarded this land.” At this speech, Diana was still left a little lost, her head swimming with all this creature had told her. “And what does that mean?” she asked, reaching down again to poke at the fallen bow. This time it did not zap her, and she lifted it, now seeing that it also came with a quiver full of handsomely fletched raven arrows. She knew what Rangers supposedly were, but had always thought that it was a silly story created to entertain silly people. This is nuts, she thought, rolling her eyes. “It means that you are to stand for us,” the Hind said somewhat cryptically, what seemed like a slight smile forming on her delicate face. “For now I cannot tell you much more, except for that you must guard those bow and arrows with you life.” Diana snorted. “And what if I get caught hauling those things across school grounds?” she said derisively, imagining the humiliation of being expelled for such an offense. She’d certainly rather die than let that happen, at least. “You will find it easier than you think, Diana,” the Hind said, flicking an ear at her. And as Diana watched, the bow and quiver glowed, and then shrank rapidly, until they were hardly larger than a charm from a bracelet. The Hind nodded in approval, bending down to pick something up from her hooves. “I have one last thing for you,” she said, her voice already sounding more distant. Taking what looked to be a necklace from between her cloven feet, she held it on her nose, pushing it towards Diana, who took it from her. “It is a present from me, especially for you. It will come in use, I promise.” As she spoke, the outline of the Hind became more and more blurred, fading into the light of the forest. “Don’t disappoint us, Diana,” she said, her words hardly louder than a whisper. “It’s been a long time since the Rangers last ruled the woods. Have their wisdom, and the world is safe.” With that, the Hind disappeared entirely, leaving Diana standing alone in the forest. “Shoot,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head and turning back to the pond to go find her keys. But she kept the tiny bow with her. <Start second post> Diana drove up to her house in a daze, feeling not quite like she was back to the real world yet. Pulling into the driveway slightly slower than usual, she yanked on the parking brake and shook her head, trying somewhat futilely to clear herself from the dizzying memory of the incident in the woods. With a sigh, she yanked her keys out of the ignition and pulled herself heavily out of the car. Never in her life had she felt either so confused or intrigued, she decided. The Hind had truly given her the jolt of her life. Not even pausing to pull her mud-encrusted bag from the back of her car, she slammed the door behind her and trudged up the front walk, too confused to remember such things as her books. Her mother greeted her at the door, looking a little surprised by her odd behavior. “How did the testing go today?” she asked, scrutinizing Diana carefully. “Um… fine,” she answered vaguely, staring at a spot on the wall. “Not as well as you hoped, I guess,” her mother continued. “I’d say not,” Diana muttered, fingering the green stone in her newfound necklace. Fortunately for her, Diana’s mother was soon preoccupied with stacking pairs of socks, leaving her with the opportunity to escape further interrogation by sneaking off to her bedroom. Once inside, Diana threw herself heavily onto her bed, tossing her keys over into the key holder on the desk beside her. She felt entirely unable at the time to fully comprehend what had just occurred – so she didn’t even try. Covering her head with her pillow, she clamped her hands over her ears, for a second blissfully unaware of what was going on around her. But after a few seconds, an odd, muffled musical sound drifted out of the corner of her room, sending shivers down her spine. Anything out of the ordinary now reminded her of the unearthly experience in the woods behind the pond. Seemingly endless moments passed as she lay, paralyzed with apprehension, unwilling to get up and see what it was. Eventually, she got up the nerve to lift the corner of the pillow just a bit, to hear what it was that was scaring her so badly. Much to her surprise, it appeared to be just music coming from her clock radio. She cursed herself for being so silly, and hauled herself out of bed, stumbling over to the radio to see what it was that had spooked her so badly. It was on so quietly; she could hardly understand what it was that the people were saying, though it sounded like music. Reaching down to the volume dial, she turned it up slowly, listening to what was on. From the small speaker on the radio back emanated regular old music, nothing like Diana had feared it would be. Turning it up a little louder, she clearly heard what it was: “The Sound of Silence”. She grinned at her own paranoia, and set the clock back down, singing along to the end of the song as she did so. “And the people bowed and prayed to the neon God they made,” she sang quietly, walking over to her writing desk. “And the sign flashed out its warning, in the words that it was forming…” She reached into her desk and pulled out a blank piece of paper, picking up a pencil from the table as she did so. It seemed like a good time to write out her experiment results. “And the signs said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls and tenement halls…” The music seemed to grow suddenly quieter. Diana frowned and reached over to turn it up. “…And whispered in the sound of -“ “Silence,” a voice behind Diana finished firmly. Diana yelped, throwing the radio across the room like a hot potato, but there was nobody to be seen. Grumbling to herself about pixies and imps and talking animals, she got up with a groan. On the floor of her room, previously bare, there lay a letter, bound in green ribbon and made of a rather old-fashioned sort of paper. A lump rose in her throat as she realized what it likely meant. Nobody that she knew of could have gotten into her room without her noticing – nobody except for her newest acquaintance, the Golden Hind. Half dreading what she would find, she bent over and picked it up off the carpet, sliding the green ribbon off as she went. Across the paper danced an unusual, curling script, unlike anything that she had seen before. Raising an eyebrow slightly, she began to read. “Dear Diana,” the note began, simply enough. “I must admit that I am a little surprised by your lack of awareness when I dropped this off for you. Staring at that odd little box of yours and singing along to songs you listen to every day is hardly a thing that should have distracted you so much that you could have missed my arrival. Let us note that as something that you will need to work on in these coming days. But first, I would like to redirect your attention to that new bow of yours. Have you given it a try yet? I would venture to guess not. Why don’t you take a turn practicing a little this evening in the strip of trees you have behind your garden. Signed,” Here there was no signature, only a golden-edged, cloven hoof print, unmistakable as that of the Hind. Diana sighed and pulled the little gold bow out of her pocket, looking at it in blandly. In its current state, it wouldn’t be good for much shooting. After all of the weird things that she’d seen that day, though, she would not at all be surprised if it would work itself out. So without further delay, she put on her boots and trotted out the door to the small woods behind her well manicured lawn, dropping her lab results as she went. Silvermourn Somewhere the controller of the game began to grow very tired of events as they passed. Whichever random event of magic that had been in charge of placing the game board as it was, had been foolish at best. It seemed that none of the various players had managed to end up anywhere near each other, and most of them where skeptical at best. It was time for the controller to make some changes. So with a sound like millions of glass panes shattering all at once. The magical being that thought of itself as the controller folded reality upon itself. For now it was still a game and to be treated like one, however the controller worried. Someday things could grow more difficult for the players then it did today. Somewhere both magic and evil brooded together, and the controller saw an end to all in this strange breeding. With sudden determination the controller forced the humans that were those involved in the game into once place. With his own power and the strange sound he brought them all to a park in the middle of some great human civilization or another. Perhaps they would decide to make allies of each other, but as humans went it was more likely that they would all be enemies. The creatures of magic immediately began to converge on that spot, the humans would see what they were up against soon enough, untrained and foolish as they were. As an afterthought, one of little importance, the Controller pushed the meager possessions of the various heroes as they were, into their location as well. Those guides who lived could see to themselves, all guides had magic of their own with which to bring themselves to their charges. -------- Sleeping soundly Conner was suddenly ripped from his peaceful dreams by a terrible sound like a rain of glass. He bolted upright suddenly only to find himself sitting on grass and looking at trees neither things he had expected to see awakening from a motel room. There where others around him, strangers he couldn't recognize. It was their presence and the early morning light that made him realize he was clothed only in some flannel pajamas he had brought for no apparent reason. He was not generally overly modest, but for some reason the lack of proper clothing made him feel vulnerable. Just as he began to wonder where his bags might be so that he could cloth himself, the sound of breaking glass rent the air once again. Possessions began to rain down from the air. His and what he assumed were those of others, his life was not going to be a normal one. It was thoughts of his possessions and his strangely aware mind that sent him suddenly leaping backwards, even as his motorcycle crashed to the ground in a heap of broken metal. It sat there beside his bags, looking destroyed, which inevitably it was. Silently mourning his bike he moved quickly to the possessions being slowly crushed beneath it. From his bags he pulled his clean clothes, and then he pulled them on over his pajamas. He didn't want to be making any new acquaintance clothed only in his pajamas, it would not be a good first impression. His jacket and new possessions followed after that, and then he simply slung his single back across his chest. He believed he would be able to draw the sword with it there so he didn't worry. He was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to use the sword properly anyway. Adjusting his things he stood with apprehension, staring at the others around him and worrying silently about his bike. For some reason he was stuck on the fact that it was completely destroyed. |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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| Silvermourn | Feb 15 2009, 10:32 PM Post #4 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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Efar Jo pulled up behind the crow as it suddenly stopped its flight. Panting, she glared at it angrily. “Dumb city bird! Go eat the rubbish off the sidewalk like a normal crow, and stop bothering me!” she barked, “If you’re trying to me keep the sword, I don’t have any use for it! Do I look like a dragon slayer to you or something? Huh? Do I?!” The crow cawed in reply, and gracefully swooped from the bronze statue of a rearing, panicked horse it had previously sat upon to the top of a gargoyle shaped fountain. Jo, realizing with a feeling of dread that the crow meant to drop her ad into the water, quickly rushed forward in an attempt to save the slip of paper. She bounded onto this railing around the fountain, barely keeping her balance as she reached out over the splashing water that gushed from the gargoyle’s black and grey marble mouth in an attempt to snatch back her ad. The crow looked mildly amused as Jo became so worked up over the slip of paper, clearly realizing it had the upper hand (or wing). Jo scowled and leaned back on the railing, folding her arms and glaring at the crow. “Honestly... You’ve run me all over town. The game was fun while it lasted, but I would really like for you to give my ad back to me. I’ve had enough… Just give it back! Please?” she implored. For a minute it looked as though the crow would be kind to her and allow her to take the paper. Jo’s frown turned up and into a smile, and she leaned forward to take the ad back. Then, as any person with any foresight would have seen coming, the crow dodged away and launched himself into the air. With a raucous cry, he flapped behind Jo and smacked into her back. There was a brief moment in which Jo attempted to catch herself by grabbing hold of the gargoyle’s oversized ears, and then she toppled into the fountain with a tremendous splash. Jo gasped as she hit the cold water, but had no issue with having to swim out of it, as it was only four feet deep. The presence of koi who seemed vastly interested in her jewelry was none too comforting, though. Funny. With my hair, I bet I look like a great copper penny thrown into the fountain… Does the crow get a wish, I wonder? Jo thought vaguely as she struggled to climb out of the fountain before anyone saw her. Just as she clambered back out over the railing, she heard a sound like a window breaking. Shoot. I hope that wasn’t my fault. Jo shook her head quickly to clear her eyes of her sopping wet, carrot colored hair, but instead of seeing a park full of fountains and statues saw what looked to be a forest before her. Jo herself was sitting upon grass rather than the cobblestone of the park plaza. Her eyes rapidly scanned her immediate surroundings, and she sprang to her feet as she noticed other people in the clearing with her. “Oy! Has anyone got a clue what’s going-“ Jo was cut of and knocked back over as, directly following a second sounds like breaking glass, a pile of her clothes dropped from the sky and onto her head. Grunting inarticulately as she pulled a pair of blue jeans off her head, she attempted to extract herself from the pile, only to be cracked on the head be a falling copy of Anna Karenina. “Argh! STOP dropping garbage on me, God!” she bellowed, looking up just in time to see the sword she had found in her elk’s head plunging straight towards her face. “Aaaaieee!” Jo rolled out of the way just in time, and the sword landed just shy of her left ear. After it fell there came a brief pause in which Jo picked herself up, swore, and violently kicked the pile of her possessions. She scanned the heap with a little sadness, noticing that her clothes had become wrinkled and dirty when they had fallen. The books that had rained from the sky fared no better. Several stray pages littered the ground, and at least a few books had been separated from their bindings. Sighing is dismay, Jo knelt to gather all of the loose pages of her books. She had barely picked up eight before something large, furry, and smelling of moth repellent smashed into her. Suddenly, she was pinned to the ground. Cursing once more, Jo pushed against the thing that trapped her, trying to see what it was. It was insanely heavy, but in a few minutes Jo had managed to lift it off of herself. As the thing fell backwards and Jo fell forwards, she saw that she had been pinned by the head of the elk her landlady adored so much. Its antlers, a few points muddied, carried a silver embellished sheathe and ebony leather strap that Jo assumed belonged to the sword the elk’s head had carried her the first time. “No one saw the falling objects incident, by the way,” Jo called out with sarcastic nonchalance, standing up and pulling the sword from where it had become firmly lodged in the earth. With a frown, she cleaned the dirt from its blade with a pair of fuzzy green socks she found in her possession mound. She wrung out her hair, and walked over the fetch the elk head’s new gift, into which she placed the sword. “Alright. Who are you lot, and can anyone explain how I got from the park to here in a matter of seconds?” Jo asked, leaning against the broad trunk of a nearby tree. Teslyn The small diary nestled in her lap, Kirsten leaned against the tree in the park, eyes closed her hand rested on it. Caught up as she was with police inquiries, the hospital, and caring for her brother, it had taken her a long time to remember the antique but pristine dagger and the small, worn-cover and faded-looking diary that she had stuck into her tote bag. Once she did remember the items, she began avoiding them in every sense. She tried not to think about them; tried not to walk near that bag; tried not to even look in the corner of her room where it was slung over the back of her chair because every time she let something of those things into her mind, that ... essence of something that was her-but-not-her became just a little brighter, just a little more noticeable, a little louder, and little more insistant. It finally got to the point where she simply could not ignore them anymore; the small, oh-so-very slim dagger had come with a strange sort of hilt that she had managed to fasten around her leg so that it was concealed by her red Hunter rainboots. Dressed casually in skinny jeans and a black shirt, she had silently made her way to the park - for what reason, she didn't know, other than that the essence of her-but-not-her liked parks better than her small bedroom. Opening her eyes, she finally opened the diary and began to read. The cold, unfeeling, unseeing stone hallway... it began. The words danced through her mind, creating detailed images that moved like those in the cinemas, but altogether different because it had a personal quality; the words made her see it all from the eyes of the writer, as if she herself was the writer... [x] THE COLD, UNFEELING, UNSEEING STONE HALLWAY... bore witness to her silent, skilled, and perfectly-executed sins. But a stone hallway poorly lit by torches whose smoke stung the eyes and blurred vision was no real witness. It could not shout the alarm to an unsuspecting but very meddlesome charlatan of a high priest. It could not tell tales of the unspeakable acts it had seen but could not stop. It could not be awed by the swiftness of that act. It could not even weep as blood ran in rivulets, seeping through the lines of the cold flagstone floor, cold as the body which dropped to it would soon become. The cold, unfeeling, unseeing stone hallway could only stand there impassively, as it was built to do, as the silent shadow seemingly materialized out of nowhere. The shadow wore soft, black leather boots of the finest quality because the finest quality was the kind that made no noise when the wearer knew how to walk. Black hose covered shapely, slender and decidedly feminine legs. The torso was covered by a black tunic cinched at the waist with a black belt to which was attached a small pouch of something that was no doubt used only for nefarious purposes. But it was neither the tunic nor the hose nor the pouch nor the leather boots, nor even the dagger which reflected the poor torchlight that was most disturbing. It was the cold, bright, and amused green eyes set in a face shadowed by the cowl of a cloak that seemed darker than the darkest, starless black of night, a darkness that seemed to be such a stark contrast - so much darker - with the rest of the shadows that surrounded it that was disturbing. The cold, unfeeling, unseeing stone walls would have fled if they could have. The knife flashed as it sped through the air and buried itself in the charlatan priest's back; the cloak did not so much as swoosh when the woman glided forward, neither hasty nor slow but at a perfectly regulated pace, and withdrew the knife which showed no blood. Cutting the priest's throat, just to be sure, she slipped the small knife back into her right boot and removed the hood. Kirsten Winslow smiled in the darkness. [x] Kirsten Winslow's eyes widened as the diary tumbled from numb fingers as her mind tore itself from what she was reading - from what the diary was showing her. "What the hell...?" was all she had time to wonder aloud before something jerked and suddenly she was no longer where she had been. Oh, there were trees and grass, but not the trees and grass she had just been sitting amongst. "What the hell!" She actually managed to get the words out this time. Elka About an hour had passed since Diana had entered the woods, and she was still having a grand time shooting at an old, half rotten log with her newly acquired bow and arrows. She had always been decent at archery at camp and in P.E., so she was not too surprised by her modest amount of success at it now. Looking up at the sun, she saw that it was quickly growing darker, evening fast on its way. With a sigh, she collected the last of her arrows and shoved them back along with the rest of her stuff. Suddenly, she felt the ground lurch beneath her. Yelping, she threw her arms around a tree, digging her fingers into the soft moss lining its trunk. But her efforts proved to be futile. A deafening sound like the breaking of glass crashed around her, and she was torn from the tree. Seconds later, she blinked rapidly to find herself… in the woods. But these woods were not the same ones she had been in before. Grinning sheepishly, she realized that she still clutched handfuls of moss in her fists, which she dumped in front of her without another thought. The miniature bow charm hung on its bracelet around her wrist, tangled slightly in the moss fibers that she had not yet managed to get out. She ignored it, instead looking around her. There were other people there, she saw. Some were older, some younger, but all shared the general expression of confusion. Good. That meant that she likely was not the only one feeling like somebody had put something in her food. She did not have too long to study the others though, before another great crash, worthy of the infamous chandelier from Phantom of the Opera, rang out through the clearing. Covering her ears, she watched in shock as all of her possessions rained down from the sky. That was truly an unusual sight, at best. “Oh my, freaking cow!” Diana yelled, forced to dive out of the way of the falling objects. She winced as her enormous dresser and wardrobe fell from a great height, smashing the legs into the ground in a violent fashion. The drawers fell open, scattering her clothes all over the damp forest floor. She scurried over in an attempt to save them, only to have her much hated and abused alarm clock plop down on top of her head. “Alright, I’ve had it with you!” she shouted, chucking the clock across the clearing with the expression of a madwoman carrying out a murder. Looking wildly happy with her triumph, she turned to face the others, and the grin slid off her face. “Erm… Hi,” she said awkwardly, staring at the ground. “Which one of you put the mushrooms in my tea, eh?” Oracle Alric had been driving for hours. His bus rolling down the interstate highway at 75 mph. His radio playing the same old sad country tunes, but he loved hearing them every time. Still not sure where he was suppose to be going, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling he was suppose to be doing something. Night had come, and he had drifted into a sleep-like tunnel vision. A glimmer in the road ahead caught his attention, it was the first thing he had seen for hours. Had it really been ten hours? He tapped his watch. Then the terror hit. It wasn't another car. What he saw was a reflection of himself. Before he could slam on the brakes and figure out what was happening, he was deafened by the sound of shattering glass. His world tossed itself violently, and for a moment he lost consciousness. Then he was flung forward, the sun blazing in his eyes. Airborne? The blue and white bus was streaming above the ground as if it had been hurled off a cliff. His body raised slightly off the seat as the bus flew towards the ground. Too afraid to close his eyes, and too afraid to leave them open, he did the next best thing...he screamed, and slammed on the brakes. Worse yet, as the bus hit the ground, and bounced once or twice, he found he was careening directly toward a group of people. The steering wheel refused to cooperate. Hey laid on the horn, while pumping madly on the brakes. "Get out of the way!" but they just seemed to stand there in shock. The tension was too much, and he could no longer look at what was coming. He shut his eyes and waited for the bus to stop, or the nightmare to end, which ever came first. When it was all over, he sat there afraid to open his eyes. Hands clenched to the steering wheel, and a sickly pale look on his face. Don't move Alric, or you'll be sick. Had he hit them? Chert The first sound he heard since being impolitely dumped here was a female voice shrieking. He turned/jumped toward the sound, just in time to catch something hard and made of plastice right in the jaw. He winced, but more out of surprise than pain. He was suprised not just because he had been unexpectadly slammed in the chin by an alarm clock, but becuase there was little to no pain. The usual first sting he had felt, but not the dull throb that usually accompanied an impace of that character and calibur. He rubbed his chin, in confusion mostly. He wasn't sure what to make of this. He was a highly trained military operative and had faced dangerous and unusual conditions before, but he had always had a plan and rehearsed that plan before, ready for the plan to wrong at any moment. This was something quite different, and he wasnt' sure what to do or how to react. That irony made him laugh. It was a loud and thunderous laugh that came from his gut and made him toss his head back. First, being ripped here by some unknown force, and then being hit in the jaw by a clock, thrown by a women no less. He laughed again. Then he stood stock still, as the vibrant green eyes of that blasted cat locked on his. The cat was sitting in a tree, about ten feet from him, and it seemed to be smiling at him, almost mocking Billy. This irked Billy beyond reason. He picked up a piece of the now shattered alarm clock, and threw it at the cat. "Leave me alone you stupid cat." Billy muttered under his breath. The cat easily dodged the clock. What happened next almost made Billy pass out. I don't want to be here any more than you do, but as long as you wear that ring, I"ll be with you where ever you go. At that, Billy tried to remove the ring from his finger. But he couldn't. No matter how hard he pulled, Billy couldn't seem to budge the ring, despite pulling his own finger out of joint at one point. Then Billy screamed in frustration. Efar Jo’s eyes widened ever so slightly as a few more people appeared out of thin air, a sound like shattering glass heralding each arrival. To the large, strong looking man she said with forced calm, “No, I don’t know ‘what the hell is going on’, and I believe I just asked that question myself.” Her hand settled on the hilt of the sword she had been gifted, driven to do so by the vague feeling of discomfort that seeing the solid man’s fighting stance gave her. Still leaning against the tree with feigned nonchalance, Jo’s eyes scanned the group of people once more, taking note of another new arrival. This one, dressed in skinny jeans and scarlet boots that Jo was just a wee bit jealous of, appeared to be one of the more high strung people brought to the woods (the exclamation of “what the hell” seemed to indicate that, anyway). Jo chose not to speak to her, simply because she had nothing to say. “Hello, welcome to Heaven-Knows-Where! My name is Jo!” didn’t quite seem the appropriate statement to greet someone with. Suddenly, another girl appeared. This one had moss clenched in both fists, something which prompted one of Jo’s gull-wing eyebrows to arch skyward. A split second later, another shattering sound tore through the air, and a wardrobe fell from the sky. Man, this is one screwed up dream, Jo thought, her eyes following the dresser as it plummeted into the ground, its legs sinking into the mud. Judging from the way in which the brunette charged forward to save the clothing that poured from the dresser, it probably belonged to her. Jo failed to stifle a snicker as an alarm clock fell on the girl’s head, and then was picked up and hurled across the clearing. She outright laughed when it connected with the large man’s jaw. “Mushrooms in your tea? Good question,” Jo snorted, eyeing Diana. “I was wondering that too. I hardly would expect one of these people here to admit to doing-” Jo stopped mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open as her eyes took in an unbelievable sight. There was a bus careening through thin air right towards her. The driver, his eyes screwed shut, appeared to be screaming something as the bus smashed down onto the ground and sped straight towards the group of thoroughly confused people. Jo did what any other reasonable person would have done in her situation: she ran. But she didn’t just run, so to speak. She sprinted with the speed of a gazelle followed by a lioness, or a rabbit being swooped upon by a golden eagle, or a person being chased by a speeding bus. The sword proved to a small hindrance as she ran, but her fear of being made into a red-haired pancake was great enough so that she ignored it. The bus passed behind Jo at blazing speed, ruffling her wet hair, but the driver soon appeared to have it under control. It had stopped, anyways. Jo didn’t know whether she should approach it or not. Is the guy at the wheel a homicidal maniac? The Boston Bus Brute or some other oddly named mass murderer who uses a bus as a weapon? she wondered. Her curiosity got the better of her, as usual. Not having a better way of defending herself, she drew the sword the elk’s head had left. She felt rather awkward standing there with a piece of antique weaponry, but it was better than having to use her bare hands, at least. Jogging up to the bus, Jo walked to the driver side and tapped on the window with the sword. “Oy! Is everything alright? You don’t look like Ms. Frizzle, so I’m assuming you’re not used to driving the Magic School Bus… I doubt you have any more of an idea of what’s going on than anyone else does, but, if you don’t mind me asking, what is happening and why are we all here?” Jo thought that she could see the shadow of a crow out of the corner of her eye, but she ignored it. If it bothered her, she would skewer it upon her lovely obsolete weapon. Elka Diana winced as she saw her alarm clock she had just thrown recklessly across the clearing collide with the solid-looking man’s jaw. That alarm clock was heavy, and she could imagine that randomly chucking it into somebody’s face was probably not the best way of greeting him. “Sorry!” she called over to him, trying her best to look apologetic. The man must not have been too bothered by it, though, because he immediately picked up the clock and threw it at something out of Diana’s sight. She sighed and turned to the rather wet red-haired girl who had addressed her. “Well, at least I know it wasn’t –“ she broke off suddenly, as the redhead abruptly stopped, staring wide-eyed at something behind Diana. She whirled around to see an odd and terrifying scene. A blue and white bus, of all things, was flying toward them, and at quite a fast rate, too. There was a driver, but he seemed to be completely out of control of the vehicle (and more than a little panicked, besides). Not even waiting to see what the others did, Diana spun on her heel and ran – right into her wardrobe. She cursed, and literally vaulted onto the piece of furniture, as if it would provide some sort of protection from the bus. Of course, if the bus had actually hit the wardrobe, it, along with Diana, of course, would have been reduced to a splintered mess. Luckily for her, it did not. Instead, the bus ploughed through the floor of the clearing, passing her furniture perch right by. It eventually came to a halt about twenty meters behind her, leaving large gouges in the ground behind it where the tires had torn into the soft ground. Diana grinned slightly when she was Jo yank out the sword. She apparently wasn’t the only one here who had an archaic piece of weaponry on her. Deciding that at this point things had probably gotten safe enough for her to get off her wardrobe (not that it ever had been much protection), Diana hopped lightly to the ground. Straightening up, she followed Jo over to the bus, hanging back just a little, just in case the redhead was a bit too… excitable with the sword. Teslyn Kirsten was looking a little pale; too much had happened in the past few minutes for her to feel properly, and that essence inside of her, the one that was somehow linked to the diary which had shown a vision of someone who was apparently herself was wary and suspicious and wanted the dagger in her hand. Surreptitiously, Kirsten pulled the dagger from her boot and slid the flat sheathe up into the sleeve of her sweatshirt. That way, she would be ready. Pushing herself to her feet, she looked around and eyed the others, scanning them and noting little facts. The girl who called herself Jo carried a sword, though the way she held it begged to have it jarred from her fingers at first glancing blow. Another girl carried a bow like she knew how to use it, but her soft, callous-less fingers bespoke of the fact that it was probably just a hobby, and she was not primarily an archer and -- how in the world was she even noticing little things like that, let alone recognizing what it meant? "Okay," Kirsten said blandly, staring at the sky. "What the hell is going on." Silvermourn Standing then fully clothed and ready to go in the clearing, he watched in dismay as more and more people appeared out of relatively thin air. They were quite a collection, a lot of them seemed to be carrying weapons that didn't really fit the world they lived in. The thought led him to believe that perhaps they weren't in their world any longer, that the strange fantasy he'd been living for the last few days had finally connected with the wold it belonged in. However he abandoned his thoughts for a moment as the most threatening of the swelling collection of stranger appeared out of nowhere. He just happened to be driving a bus, the thought of being hit by a bus was a strange one. It seemed like a rather anti-climactic end for an interesting little adventure. His first reaction to a bus moving in his general direction was not what he would have expected for himself. He reached not for the sword on his left shoulder but the book on his left. Why he went for the book he didn't know, but drawing it to him he flipped through the pages momentarily. He found nothing within the blank pages except the choose, and his thumb skimmed the image that would bring him back to the place he had learned to make light. Even as he did so the bus flew past him the air off of it pushing him back a step. Realizing that he had accidentally decided his next learning he snapped the book closed and slipped it into it's place. Turning on the bus he glanced at it with a sigh, it seemed to have survived when his motorcycle certainly hadn't. The strange collection of people would probably migrate to the buses location, so he also moved towards the bus. Looking towards the various peoples he took note of their weapons, and also of their general appearances. They were quite the collection of individuals, and he not the strangest of them. " Does anyone have a better idea of what's going on then I do?" Oracle Alric still had his eyes clenched as tightly as his hands on the steering wheel. He heard the tapping on the door's glass, but was still reluctant to move. He knew he had hit things, and hoped it wasn't people. He couldn't stay here all day, he was going to have to face what happened. Slowly he opened his eyes. No blood on the windshield, that was a start. Good lord, she was wielding a...sword? He looked around, some of the others had weapons too. No one was screaming or pointing under the bus. Perhaps he hadn't hit anyone. Easing himself out of the drivers seat, he opened the door to have a look at the bus. "I haven't got a clue what is going on. I was driving through Texas, at night. The next thing I know is I'm sailing into this here park." He nodded to her then proceeded around the bus, checking underneath too. He winced when he saw the remains of a fairly nice motor bike, but since the rider wasn't attached, he mumbled, "It could have been worse." Then stood and turned back to the girl. "You ask that question like you wound up here in some strange manner as well." With any luck he should be able to back the bus up to the road he had flown over. He scratched his head as he looked over the group. They all seemed to have one thing in common. They were here. Then he remembered the angel. "Hey, were any of you perhaps contacted by an angel? or any other strange occurrence?" Elka Diana trotted up behind Jo to the bus, peeking in the window curiously. There seemed to be only the one person in the bus, which was probably a good thing. Too many people all coming out would only cause mayhem, she suspected, and crowd control was not her favorite activity. As the man on the bus got off, she stepped around the side, looking him over with interest. “It’s not every day you meet a Texan with a flying bus,” she said in amusement, watching as he looked under the bus, presumably searching for any people who may have gotten run over when he arrived. “You didn’t hit anybody except the motorbike, and that was already beyond repair,” she muttered, staring at the twisted remains of a formerly handsome vehicle. That must have been some bike, not too long ago. “Too right we got here in a strange manner,” she continued, her eyebrows knitted together. “And I’d really love it if somebody would explain how. Just flying cross-country as you seem to have, (though I honestly don’t have a clue where we are), is not a usual occurrence, unless I am greatly mistaken.” At his mention of angels, she shivered slightly, remembering the strange golden deer in the woods. So she wasn’t the only one, then? Maybe it was a big group of people on mushrooms, then. “Angels, no,” Diana said somewhat suspiciously, tapping the edge of that absurd bow against her boot. “But, there was, erm… some deer that wanted to… talk.” She blushed awkwardly. “Something about wanting people to impersonate Ranger Rick. But seriously, do you realize how late it is? This is just silly! I have work to do, I can’t be traipsing about in the forest right now!” Silvermourn It seemed like every freak with a mental disorder involving seeing things that weren't there, with the addition of every magic mushroom addict in the country, had all gathered around a bus, in the middle of a park. As he looked at the bus he glanced once again at his bike, the poor thing was completely trashed. He mourned his bike even as he re-sheathed the sword in it's place on his jacket. Walking up to the front of the group, alongside the bus driver and the girl with the bow. For the moment stupid titles would have to work better than names. If he was stuck with these people remembering their names would be a serious difficulty. However for the moment all that was important was figuring out what the hell was happening. " She's right the only thing you hit was my poor baby." Wiping a fake tear from the corner of his eye he put on his best fake sad face. " I don't know what she did to you, desecrating her poor corpse. Already smashed against the cold unforgiving ground, and then you have to come by and hit her with a bus." Finished with his tirade he looked back at his bike with real hurt in his eyes. She had always been one of his favorite possessions, calling his bike a she was probably sick though. " As for getting here, I think we probably all showed up in basically the same way. If one of us knows why and they don't spill asking them isn't going to get them to give it up. But that's just my take on things, let's each ask the same questions over again, once for each person we meet. That way everyone will know no one else knows absolutely nothing." Chert You say a deer talked to you?" Billy asked the women with a bow. "Like, words came out of its lips and everything?" Billy rolled his eyes, "I'm sorry, my name is Billy, and is any one in need of medical attention?" He turned his attention toward the bus driver with this question. Despite the situation, Billy found himself wanting to take care of this strange little group that had been thrown together for some unknown reason. He laughed to himself at this. "I haven't had anything or anyone talk to me, but I seem to be able to 'hear' this stupid cat in my head. It said something about 'as long as I wear this ring, it will go where ever I go." That thought made Billy sick to his stomache. I hate cats It wasn't even a cool cat, it looked like some mixed breed alley cat. The question posed by the man, who obviously had lost the bike, perplexed Billy. He knew he wasn't the smartest guy in the world and his command of the language was often wittled down to several adjetives connected by several expletitives, but his question totally befuddled him. "What?" Elka Diana looked over at the big man with a twisted smile. This was bound to be an awkward conversation, at best. “Well, yes, I suppose it talked. I don’t think deer really have lips, but I dunno, it looked like it was talking.” She grinned even wider at his next question. “We’re all alright, though, I think. Alright in body, at least. I’m not so sure about the state of our minds right now… I don’t think that seeing talking animals is generally a sign of healthy, sane people. Might as well just call the funny farm on us at this point. But you say that you saw a talking cat too? Weird. See, I’d try to get that ring off as fast as I could if I were you. Maybe the cat wants it or something, you never know. The problem with me is, this ‘deer’ is practically stalking me. I can’t get it off my tail, no matter how hard I try,” she ranted, not quite realizing the tangent she had gone off on. Walking back over to the bus, she leaned under it to see the sad remains of the motorbike. Not able to think of anything to say, she just leaned against the bus, a little disappointed to see the state the motorcycle was in. She had always liked motorcycles a little, though she would probably never admit to it. Still, the issue of how to get back home nagged at her. Though it would be nice to find out what was going on first… Shaking her head in indecision, she wandered back over to the bus owner. “Um, not trying to be rude, but do you, er, thing that you could maybe give us a ride home?” she asked, blushing. “If you know where we are, of course. Which you probably don’t. Actually, forget that I ever asked!” she grumbled, pacing in frustration. Chert Billy smiled his best and biggest I'm not going to eat you grin, "the cat didn't really issue sound from it's mouth as much as I heard it in my head." That sentance made Billy a little quesy. He didn't like the fact that something could be running around in his head that he didn't have control of. People had always called him a little of a control freak. "And I've tried to take the ring off, it's like it's welded on, or something." Again, something he couldn't control. This situation was getting more tense by the second. He watched as the young women walked over to the bus. He couldn't help but admire the way she moved. Graceful with no wasted movement. He caught himself staring and quickly looked away, hoping no one else had noticed him staring. His faced turned slightly red. It's a good thing it was dark. Billy didn't know how to respond to the girls next question. He didn't think any one knew where they were. He barely knew how he had gotten there in the first place. He looked around to see if he could find any land marks or recognizable features of the land. Being in the military, he had been a lot (Two words, not one) of places, and knew how to determine location by looking at the surrounding territory. He could see the sparkle of lights just over the treetops in the distance. He didn't get the feeling that he was higher then the buildings, but that the trees were below the buildings, and the part he was looking at actually towered over the trees. They had to be a good distance away though to give the apperance of being so little. This information didn't help much. He could guess to within a hundred miles, but that was about it. The best he could place them was in the midwest or east United States. He looked around and began to gather details of there surroundings. Other than the crushed bike and mangled bus, and the gouged earth from it's landing, the area they were in seemed to be well manicured, almost like a garden, or a park. So, they had to be in a public area that was visited quite frequently. This means somebody could have noticed them arriveing in the area. Someone would be here soon to check the commotion. "I hate to break up the party, but we're in a highly visible area, believe it or not, and someone will be here soon to check on what happened. I don't know about any body else, but I can't explain the presence of a bus and several people out here. Maybe we should move away from the scene of the 'crash' and talk more there?" EfarJo grinned strangely, sinking so that her weight was supported on one leg. “I don’t think were in Kansas anymore, Toto,” she snickered. She let Diana do most of the explaining to Alric. Somehow she thought that her PR would be a bit lacking… She did, however, explain about her crow. “I haven’t seen any angels, unfortunately. None of you lot look like angels, either… I have seen a crow, though, and he’s stalking me. Look! There he is now!” Jo pointed to the black form that perched, vulture like, above her in a tree. “You’re lucky, cat, angel, and deer person. At least you haven’t got a harbinger of death following you like Mary’s little lamb,” she muttered. One of the men mentioned something about being in a highly visible area, and that it would be wise to leave. Jo nodded; she didn’t exactly want to be caught with a Magic School Bus or a completely destroyed motorcycle. She didn’t quite trust anyone yet, though, so unlike Diana she did not ask for a ride. Jo’s opinion was that her boots were made for walking, and that’s just what they’d do. Standing around it wet clothes was making her cold, so she decided to get going right away. Sheathing the turquoise encrusted sword, she turned to look for a place to head for. The place looked nice, so Jo assumed she was in a park or on the ground of some mansion. If she could just find the mansion or a nice gazebo, she’d be all set to go. Spying a nice, sturdy looking tree, Jo pulled off her boots and, after casting the footwear aside, pulled herself up into it. Climbing around like a monkey gone mad, Jo managed to get pretty high up, but still saw no sign of any mansion. Well, that’s a disappointment, Jo thought, beginning to climb back down. Below her, she heard the crow cawing in amusement, prompting her to bark sharply, “shut up!” |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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| chert1214 | Feb 25 2009, 01:35 AM Post #5 |
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Billy watched the girl shimmy up the tree. "Nice form." Billy thought. He watched as she deftly moved from tree limb to tree limb without so much as shaking a leaf. "Amazing", Billy mumbled under his breath. It normally took a person years to develop that kind of agility and deftness, more years than this girl had been alive. Billy laughed at himself at this thought. "I'm old enough to be her father". But still, he couldn't help but admire the skill the girl obviously achieved. Since one direction looked just as good as any other, Billy started moving south. He didn't know why, it just seemed as good as any other. That wasn't entirely true. He could almost feel a pull in the back of his mind to go south. He couldn't explain it, and he doubted anyone else could explain it either. He motioned for the others to follow, "this way", he said. He wasn't sure why he motioned for the others to follow. Maybe it was force of habit from being a leader of a SF team for all these years, or maybe it was just that stupid urge he had to protect anyone that he had a connection with. Of course the only connection he had with these people was being unceremoniously dumped in the middle of nowhere. Strange connection. Billy wasn't a big believer of destiny, he always felt he could control the when and the where, but he knew that these other people and him were definately part of something much bigger, and thier actions were going to determine the future of not only themselves, but quite possible many more people. |
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"It's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees." - Seneca Chert | |
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| Silvermourn | Feb 25 2009, 01:26 PM Post #6 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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The group was beginning to scatter, and despite the relative calm of the park they appeared to be in Conner found himself growing nervous at the potential solitude. It didn't seem right to leave these people, and at this point it also seemed unsafe. For some reason he felt as if at any minute they were to be attacked, and the extra awareness that had accompanied his new skills seemed to flash like spidey sense at the thought. Danger seemed imminent, for what good would it do to carry a sword and summon light if some great creature didn't want to kill you. The thought no matter how sarcastic, was probably all that saved his life in that moment. On edge already he managed to throw himself to the ground as the hulking creature broke out of the trees around them, it came from above like it had leaped out of the trees, but as it passed it tore them apart. Large and heavily muscled the creature seemed to be covered with a thick almost slimy hide the color of stone. Two large eyes stared from it's head just above a gaping tooth filled mouth. The creature was unclothed and vaguely humanoid, and it's loud bellowing seemed to be angry. It landed just near the kneeling Conner, lifting it's head to breathe in the air before rounding on the others. For some reason it went straight for Jo, heavy sharpened claws reaching for her throat in an unruly charge. On his feet as quick as he could managed Conner managed to get the flamberge he had purchased into his hands and ready. The weapon was heavy and noticeably awkward, it seemed to have been a bad decision to purchase the thing. Yet he felt more comfortable with it in his hands and he watched the creature charge in dismay, readying his weapon to fight in hopes that none would die by the creature. His mind seemed to be ignoring the fact that a giant monster had just leaped out of the woods. If he had taken a moment to think about it he probably would have realized how insane the situation was. Yet he didn't, instead he was focused on watching it's movements, and watching his surroundings in case more numerous foes awakened from the trees. His mind silently ran figures, even with their lack of experience sheer numbers should allow their rallied little force a chance to survive. At that he did think on it for a minute, the idea was ludicrous. None of them were born to this sort of thing, they should all die here if it wasn't for the fact that he expected them all to be as strangely affected as he. |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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| chert1214 | Feb 26 2009, 01:33 AM Post #7 |
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Billy turned at the sound of tree's being uprooted and what sounded like a stone breaking. The sight he saw next made his stomach turn. It wasn't the hulking slime covered rock creature that was barrelling through the clearing that made him feel like this, he had been in the military a long time and had seen his share of unusual sights, nothing really surprised him, despite how odd this event truley was, but that it was charging at the one who called herself Jo, and the sight of a boy charging the thing with a sword that was clearly too big for him and that he was untrianed in using. The next thing Billy did probably surprised him as much as it did anyone else. He raced toward the thing, ready to engage it in hand to hand combat. Billy had no doubt that the thing was stronger than him, but it didn't look very smart. Billy hoped to outfight it, not out brawl it. He felt his ring finger get warm, and a tingling began to move up his right arm. That's when he heard that obnoxious cat in his head again "It it low, like chopping down a tree, than when it's on the ground, you can take off it's leaves." Billy pondered that for a moment. Chopping it down like a tree made sense, but he had no idea what the stupid animal meant by "take off it's leaves." Billy saw the thing reach for Jo's throat, so Billy let out his loudest, meanest, cruelest war cry he had ever uttered to try and get it's attention, or even Jo's attention if she somehow hadn't noticed what was coming after her already. He also let out the scream to get anybody else's attention. Billy couldn't figure out why, but this almost felt like a trianing event, as if they had been pulled here on purpose, and this first creature was a test. He wondered if more would come out of the woods, each one specifically designed to test each one of there particular skills. This one looked like his. This was the last thought that raced through Billy's head just before instinct, and that stupid cat's incessant poem, took over and he crashed into the thing. |
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"It's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees." - Seneca Chert | |
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| Deleted User | Feb 26 2009, 06:24 PM Post #8 |
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Jo hopped out of the tree from the second to lowest branch, landing a bit heaver than she would have liked to. Scowling, she pulled on her boots, doing a rather silly looking dance in an attempt to settle her feet back into the right places. Looking up, she saw that one of the men was motioning for them to head south. Jo stifled a snicker. That’s ironic. He wants us to go south. The implications of that are certainly interesting. She was torn between following, waiting, or formulating some other sort of plan. Herd instinct told her to follow, but her cynical side screamed of traps, ending up hopelessly lost, cannibalism, and Jack the Ripper. For some reason, the Jack the Ripper option didn’t seem too unreasonable. The air had suddenly become thick with an ominous sort of tension, like that which fills the yard the night before the prisoner is forced to walk to the gallows. Jo nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting, ears pricked, and nose sniffing the air in a disturbingly doglike manner. Then, the subito forte came. The cawing of the crow went from light and amused to frantic and raucous, one of the guys in the little group of confused people dropped to the ground, and the sound of snapping branches filled the air. Jo started, half-crouched and ready to bolt. Just as she remembered she had a sword (who cared if she didn’t know how to use it; it was sharp and could kill anyone who messed with her, except a fencer), a huge, monstrous beast broke from the trees, heading straight towards her. It crossed her mind that it might be a human in a costume, and that she should refrain from taking any action against it for this reason; however, when it reached for her throat, she quickly changed her mind. Jo was lucky that Billy let out his savage warcry, for although it caused her to jump in surprise and quickly look away from her attacker, it also allowed her to come away from the monster with only a shallow scratch on her throat. Congratulations, Jo, you just came thatclose to being slaughtered by a troll. That would have looked embarrassing on your obituary, she thought, too surprised to be thinking as clearly as she probably should have been. Jo also had the luck of possessing a weapon that was the right size for her. Not having a gun or anything more useful, she drew the sword the crow had brought her. She hesitated make a move forward, however, as the man who had wished to go south earlier charged the beast, knocking right into it. If he wanted to take the thing down, he could go ahead and do that. She still was upset at being caught off guard, and sort of wanted revenge, so if the monster ever got the upper hand she would be more than happy to attempt to settle the matter. |
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| Silvermourn | Feb 28 2009, 04:37 PM Post #9 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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The creature hit the tree hard, toppling the thing even as it managed to halt itself and try and turn towards Jo again. The girl was significantly faster than the thing, and hopefully smarter as it didn't seem to react to the fact that it had hit the tree at all. When it turned it met the rushing Billy nearly head on, grunting and stepping back with the impact. The thing was huge, Billy was large for a human but the creature attacking him was nearly double his size. With an angry growl the creature reached down for him, snatching out with it's massively powerful arms. Conner watched in anger from the background, moving towards the creature with his sword ready to strike. The man attacking the thin head on was a fool, but he was also very brave. Conner wasn't sure he himself would have been able to charge at the thing, it was horrendous to look upon. Even then he simply moved cautiously toward it, hoping to strike a fatal blow before it knew he was there. It was reaching towards the man who's name he didn't know, and with a grunt he grabbed the sword in both hand and swung it. Without both hands on it he could barely lift it, and it was unwieldy with two, but he still managed to hack a rather deep gash across the things back. With a bellow it turned on him, swinging out with it's clawed hand towards his head. He managed to catch the blow on his sword blade, but the force was enough to hurl him backwards, at the mercy of the giant creatures charge. |
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"I mourn that which may have been but will never be." "Stupidity is a wound that bleeds forever; Intelligence is a blade that stays forever sharp" "An armed man will kill and unarmed man with monotonous regularity" "Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a Ghillie suit." "You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long you live depends on how well you do it." "Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with it, 'cause it's going to be empty." | |
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| chert1214 | Mar 30 2009, 01:08 AM Post #10 |
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A wave of cruel satisfaction came over Billy when his impact drove the creature backwards a step, even though the thing was twice his size. His confidence grew as the creatures attention turned from Jo to him. The creatures next move was predictable, even hoped for by Billy. As the creature reached for him with it's massive arms, Billy let go of it's waist and stepped toward it with his inside foot. Stepping into the creature, and away from the arms, he was able to catch the creatures wrist in his arms. He then pulled and lunged with his hips, hoping to bring the creature down, using it's momentum and wieght against it. Something changed its movements though. It happened to fast for Billy to see, but all of a sudden Billy was lifted off his feet. He held on with all his might hoping he might find a solid surface to put his feet on again when he heard a sudden crash. He saw the creature brush aside the man with a sword that was much to big for him and hurl him several feet away. The creature continued his turn and began to charge at this man. The thing had apperantly forgotten about Billy being attached to it at the wrist. Billy got his feet under him again, and began scaling the creatures arm like a lumberjack scaling a tree. When he reached it's shoulders, he stood up, and stuggling to keep his balance reached around it's face for it's eyes. It was almost upon the man with a sword, he had to act quickly. He tried to jab at it's eyes, but missed badly. Instead, all he did was get a handful of cheek. Billy decided that maybe a top attack would be better. He glanced at the creatures head, hoping to find strands of what humans would call hair. He saw a few straggly strands of something oily and thin hanging from its head, and he climbed to the top of it's head using these. Once he reached the top, with a yell of defiance he reached down and closed the things eyelids. |
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"It's better to die on your feet than to live on your knees." - Seneca Chert | |
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