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| Khay's Trial! | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 8 2009, 08:27 PM (101 Views) | |
| Khallayne | Apr 8 2009, 08:27 PM Post #1 |
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Name: Khallayne Or Khay Or Khally Or Khal Or … Anything you can think of. Roleplaying Experience: In writing? About 8-9 years, Person-Person, about 14. Preferred Roleplay Style: Fantasy… However, I’ll do anything that I find interesting. Roleplaying Sample: {My style of Role-playing if I’m with someone that writes a lot of description, but little dialogue.} She was trying, Naelorynn truly was trying to get a grasp on the realms around her, feeling her mind swivel faintly as the creatures were suddenly beside her. Her eyes lost focus, almost maddened as she allowed them to stay upon her hands, watching everything out of her peripheral vision. They were there, their darker bodies sliding across the floor with a sickening sound as they hauled their broken limbs on skeletal hands. Their deformations were pure and true, and there was nothing that Rynn could do to get the images out of her mind. All she wanted to do was to curl up into a ball, and stay there… There was only one problem with those thoughts… She was already curled up into a ball. Her knees were already against her chin, and she was already clutching at her arms. There was nothing that she could do to protect herself anymore. If she ran towards Asyralith, they would follow her, they would get her great beauty from where she stood… She didn’t want anymore harm to come to the dragon, none whatsoever. If only she could protect her, she wished, she yearned, she fervently prayed to anyone, everything, that there was something that would save the Kithmitir from all of this… It wasn’t real… She closed her eyes. It. Was. Not. Real. The words echoed again and again within her mind, but as she felt their claws sliding upon the back of her chair, shivers traveled through her mind, the madness as there, her mind was telling her that it was real. She could feel them near, she could sense them crawling towards her, wanting her life, wanting the soul that she no longer had. It was shattered, thrown to the wind in a thousand pieces never to be caught… How was she to save her dragon when she could barely save herself? She held back the cry as she felt the claws upon her neck. She didn’t want to feel them. She didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want anything to do with them… It was only the pain in her arm that brought her back to focus, that brought the monsters away from her vision. She forced herself to focus on D’lor for a moment, watching his silent struggle with… She had no idea what… She didn’t expect anyone to take her state badly. She would be fine in the morning. At least, once she had a moment to breathe again, when she could breathe again. Naelorynn had this strong knot stuck in her throat, a knot that she couldn’t get out. Only shallow breathes were entering her lungs, and she knew that there would be no hope for her to last through the night on her own. She wouldn’t be able to sleep lest she forget to breathe! More fear and panic welled up within her eyes as she brought her attention towards her dragon, staring at the great big beast for long moments. The wounds upon her hide slowly started to melt and infect under her watch. The beautiful coloured hide of her great beauty twisted and rotted, flesh falling from her bones as the dragon died, rotten green ichor spilling across the floor. As the horror grew inside her chest, she could all but scream… D’lor’s hands were upon her then, tearing her nails away from her arms as Rynn’s eyes snapped back upon his being, haunted and petrified. She was almost frozen in fear as the world flowed back into her vision, and she saw that he was there, alive and real. Her eyes flickered to Asyralith for a moment, staring at her as she noticed that the dragon was fine, aside from her head lifted and alert, staring at her intently. Pain flowed out from her lungs, sharp pains that caused her to gasp in air. She hadn’t been breathing. Rynn had been holding her breath. Her lungs were screaming for oxygen, and as she took a second to breathe, her whole body quivered faintly. She knew that she would have to get through this, but she couldn’t do this on her own… It was then that she noticed that D’lor’s lips had parted, and he was speaking to her. Straining all her attention to listen to him, she allowed his voice to rock and guide her, focusing upon his hands upon her arms. He seemed to have so much faith in her… He believed too much. As despair tried to fall through her mind, she just kept staring into his eyes. It was all that the Dark Angel could do to keep herself sane, keep her gaze within his chocolate eyes. He was smiling, there was a certain warmth in his smile… She didn’t understand what he was trying to convey, what he was saying. How could he be so sure that they would make it through all of this when she harvests such doubts herself? “I… I don’t….” Her lips quivered as she struggled to find her voice, soft and distant in her own ears. Why did everything hit in waves? It was a passing thought that she couldn’t fight. “I know… But… D’lor… I… I d-don’t…” She paused, stuttering, the tangeable fear taking its place once more within her eyes as she looked at the Drow trying to get him to understand the pain that she felt, the loss within her mind. How was this distance going to be crossed? “I c-can’t feel… Her…” she ended up whispering as she slouched faintly in her chair, staring at him, “at a-a-all.” She didn’t want to be alone within her mind. She had never been alone… Not like this… Slowly from Chavarith’s side, Asyralith tore herself away, walking towards the Drow as quietly as she could, her eyes whirling grey-ish white. There was a deep understanding within her eyes as she stared at the man for a moment before setting her attention upon her rider as she settled herself down upon the ground, mere inches from the table, resting her head within Rynn’s view, watching her. Gently her sides fell as she released a deep breath, seeing the delirium from her rider’s eyes, feeling the lack of connection on Rynn’s part to her mind whereas she could feel her rider clearly. She understood. ~Dementia is threatening to take hold of her… She sees not the living, but a twisted version of what she lived through in that wretched place…~ The large dragoness spoke to the Drow softly, her mind gentle, her voice weak. The dragon was as weary as her rider, and there was nothing that could be done about the matter. Nothing that could heal her rider except for time. ~I fear what might happen to her if I can not get through to her… She can not hear me now, and I can not chase away the images. I’m useless…~ Asyralith admitted for one of the first times in her life as she watched hopelessly, unable to save Naelorynn as her mind swirled within the depths of hysteria. {My ‘average’ posts… Sometimes they are smaller, sometimes they are bigger…} “Only around me? I’m honoured!” Nidoria countered as she leaned herself forward, her arms resting upon her knees as she stopped, her face mere inches away from Lenia’s. “Why aren’t I lucky!” She added as she leaned forward faintly. She knew that no matter how hard Lenia might try, there was no way that she was leaning this far out to reach her, thus her teasing could continue. Besides, the no-touch rule was in affect, and there was nothing that she could do about it, even if she wanted to act on what they were doing, she would have to wait until her dragon rose.. As her friend was oh so kindly pointing out to her. “Ah, don’t worry about me. I’ve been around.” She snickered, just expecting the dragon Flight to be like any other experience, if not a bit harsher. It was nothing for her to think about. She didn’t get those flutters in her stomach at the thought of having to have sex, it would just be another experience in her life. No, the only disgust it brought her was the thought that she’d have to lay with another male. Gross. She had tried it a couple of times, and it wasn’t something that she ever wanted to try again. It didn’t help her that she had been trying to prove herself wrong. She had felt the disgust, and had been unable to look at a man again for weeks. Talk about an experience! As her friend attempted to sit, she watched her slowly, sitting back into a more natural position as she kicked off her boots, leaned back in her chair, and placed her feet upon the edge of her friend’s bed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in that bed as long as I say you have to.” She smirked, another flirtatious glint in her eyes as she watched her, relaxing. It was good times, these were! “Trust me… I know. I’m sure that she could even outfly a brown with a fair amount of ease. It’s going to take some work catching that girl.” She chuckled as she stared at the black with a certain amusement. She knew that her dragon was always going to be playing hard to catch, and she enjoyed that thought. However, her eyes turned towards the brown that her friend was going to ride, and a wicked grin appeared upon her face, though she changed the direction of her gaze quickly. It was easy to see that Nidoria was highly amused, or plotting something. Waenlath rumbled in amusement as the dragon tried to make himself as big as her, looking at the brown that was a bit bigger than she in height, his bulkiness had nothing on her though, which made her kind of annoyed. Even the males looked more feminine than her! There had to be some explanation to this! ~Well I look… FAT!~ She muttered angrily with a swish of her tail as she glared moodily at the bed, shaking out of her curled in stage, knowing that this frustration would never end. There was nothing that she could do to improve her speed… To her, seeing even the larger Queen, and bronzes move faster than her, it infuriated her. Why couldn’t she be like them? {When I’m really inspired… >.> And writing with a mute… >.> Older post though.} Ivory lids covered the eyes that had once retained so much life as each breath tore through his body, barely audible as he fought for each moment of life that he had been granted farther than the biting. A subconscious part of him fought without a single moment of doubt. It fought for the life that he had been torn away from, the life that he had been born into where everyone was always laughing and smiling, and though life was hard for the creatures, they had continued to strive forever, it would seem. They never stopped living the life that they had desired to live. Not for one moment had that life been tainted with doubt. Living had been something that they had been good at. Something that they fought for each and every single day, and he doubted that they would have stopped either. However, now, each breath was a struggle as the blood tried to regenerate in his body. He felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into his weakened state, one part of his mind abandoning the fight, seeking death, praying for the end of the agony and torment while the other continued to fight, seeking life, and in its first breath, to enjoy it. Hell had to end at one moment or another, and if someone could still continue to live, it shouldn't be that bad. There had to be an end to it all, one moment of happiness within this place, a moment of utter joy…How much false hope could one being take until everything crashed down upon it? Certainly life was worth its many joys, but what happened when knowing that death would be one's only solitude, that peace would never truly arrive. It hadn't been something in the demon's life for so long, that it was starting to become as though it had never existed. The demon's existence appeared bleak, and, yet, he still had never fully given up the battle. Nothing had ended in his mind. The fight was eternal. Images started to flow through his mind, and even inside his thoughts he felt himself cringe away, try and stop them from flowing within his mind as he felt the pain and torture rush through his being. Mental shackles were locked upon his wrists, chaining him to the ground, chaining him within his mind as he fought against everything that he was, wanting to sink lower into death… He only wanted to stop breathing. And, yet, shackled were thrown upon his wrists, holding him to the wall as the darkness that would lead deeper into death flowed pass him. He couldn't chase it; he couldn't even go near it. When he tried to move, he felt his movements limited to the length of the chains as his wrists connected roughly against them. Once more, he couldn't do anything as he felt himself fall to his knees, curled up near the wall. Tears streamed down his face, locking his emotions, blocking his mind as he continued to stare out into the darkness, yearning for its oblivion as he felt himself slowly start to regain life. Felt the feeling of the ground beneath him lock within his conscience. However, it was this exactly feeling that he chose to run from whenever he could get the chance. For with this feeling, emotions were most certain to start to come back and haunt him once more, memories, a plethora of memories that he yearned to no longer see. No torture could result in the pain that he felt when he viewed these memories, but his mind always brought them back when he thought he could forget. He never had a single moments rest from this living torture. Slowly the images got clearer within his mind as it slowly brought back the shrilling cries of the people of his planet that morning so many ages ago. Screams soared through the sky, its sounds echoing through the whole place as he remembered the feeling of rushing out of his room, his bare feet skidding against the black diamond with each step that he took. Not a moment was missed as he looked outside a window, the sight of a million creatures falling from the sky. Black rain. The rain of death. He knew not what it had been at the time, but now he did. It had been the first time that he had seen her, the wingless being standing upon the back of a snake like creature that hovered in the air. His people were suffering down below them, and even as he ran out of the room, the images of his family were only faint flickers of a shadow, sometimes a hint of a color. He knew that words had been cried out. He knew that something had been said that night, however, no sound reached his ears as he felt a sob shudder through his body, attacking his core. He hadn't been able to bring their memories back for years now. Not even the visages of his loving mother would come to his mind. He knew that she should be before him, but he couldn't remember her features. He only remembered the events. And even as the shadow image wrapped its arms around him, bringing the faintest recollection of a memory of the feeling came to his mind, her face started to appear, only to be pulled farther and farther away as the image started to drain away, as though someone had pulled the plug. Slowly the scene changed; within his arms he held a white figure. The albino was also being stolen from his memories as the necromancer pulled away every single little haven that he would be able to create. The man had died within his arms, he remembered the scene, remembered the blood that had flowed across the ground from the wound upon his head and stomach. He remembered the way the light in the other's eyes had faded slowly as the albino had tried to keep consciousness, clinging to the demon with the feeble strength that he had had left. He could see the man's lips moving, but not a single word had been uttered that day. Not one could have been uttered, nor were they needed, Esaraem had known that Setheus had been trying to tell him goodbye. He remembered the heart wrenching cry that had escaped through the air, a cry that he had only realized was his own when the man was dead within his arms. For the first time in his life, he had begged and prayed to the gods to save his friend. He had offered to grant anything to Xaetrix to heal the man, to bring him back. But nothing had worked, and he had expected as much. The warrior had died fighting a battle that shouldn't have been fought. Xaetrix had even been wary of the creature that had escaped one of her cages… And she had been the one to kill it, deeming it a failed experiment in the end, only after having told the demon to get his act back together, and to get rid of the body. He had never cried so much in his life as the memories of digging the grave came back to his mind. Each handful of dirt that his claws had kicked up had taken away a bit of the demon's resolve, had taken the demon's soul with it. In burying the albino that had been his only friend, he had buried himself with it, living the numb life for a while, until Xaetrix woke him up by bringing all his memories back, good times and bad, with the albino and his family, over and over again. Still the shackled man couldn't turn away as the images started to shift once more. Traveling down memory lane had never been his favourite pastime. A tremor traveled through the man's wing a couple of hours later as tears started to clutter under the man's ice blue lashes as he took in a shuddering breath. Gently tears fell down the man's pale cheeks, showing his pain, his mental prison to all that would notice. And, yet, the hand resting upon the vampire's arm twitched faintly, slowly closing gently over the arm, his claws not even raking the skin as his hand loosened once more, and lost pale green eyes opened faintly. He felt lost, that was the only emotion that he could remember as the tears flowed freely through his being. His legs curled up to his chest for a moment as a silent sob rushed through his being. His head was tucked within his wing, trying to block out the memories of the people that he could barely remember… People who had meant so much to him were lost forever. His green eyes slowly focused upon the vampire, and swiftly his gaze widened, causing the creature to retract his hand swiftly as his wing snapped to his back. In a blur of a moment he had pushed himself to his feet, skipping backwards as his wing pinions curled up around his neck, hiding his neck from the man's view. Esaraem's eyes narrowed faintly into a glare as he watched the other, slowly backing himself into a wall where he wouldn't be able to be attacked from the back again. He moved on his hands and feet, his leg muscles bunching faintly with each of the odd movements backwards. Fear glimmered within his gaze, a very large fear of the man; however, Izailen wasn't the only source of that fear. His world was spinning out of control, and he couldn't do anything about it. Without being able to resist, he crouched for a moment, holding his hands to his head as he closed his eyes once more, curling his wings across his chest, leaving only his head showing as his pinions locked together below his chin. Even though he knew that he needed a bit more rest, the demon allowed himself no such thing as powerful muscles rolled beneath the skin of his wings, forcing them a bit out to the side to take away the awkward position from his hold, and he watched the vampire, not blinking, or leaving his defensive position. Instead, he only watched, waiting for the man to try and attack him again. And though he should want the vampire dead for hurting him, the demon couldn't help but wonder why the man hadn't taken advantage of his unconscious form. Why am I still…alive? |
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| Silvermourn | Apr 8 2009, 08:33 PM Post #2 |
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The Redneck, the Cynic, the Nerd, and the Hopeless Romantic
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