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Progenies of the Pantheons
Topic Started: 24 Feb 2011, 04:44 (1,326 Views)
Sashay
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There can be only one.
Calandra stood amidst the wreckage of what had once been their home, observing the end of the confrontation in silence. Everything felt wrong, looked wrong, was wrong. The village in which they had staked their hopes was gone; the people who had tolerated them, trusted them, even grown fond of them were dead. Calm, patient Dagold had lost his mind in hatred and anger, now an unconscious charge in the grasp of the snow giantess with his sister glued to Sigga's side. Raxus had made a given them a good show. The change she recognized in him was not detrimental, but progression; he was maturing in this time of crisis, practically before her eyes. Tora had given up on them alltogether, it seemed, having stalked off to begin what would no doubt be the arduous task of recovering what few survivors there were.

Anxious fingers plucked absently at muted strings noiselessly, Calandra's pale gaze sweeping over those few remaining in their company. Runa and Sigga were in agreement: they needed to leave. The healer could find no flaw in their logic; the sooner they were gone, the better it would be for all involved. And yet, part of her was loathe to abandon the grounds of their defeat as if leaving now equated to forfeit. Mild distress was written across her face only briefly as the pair spoke despite the endorsement she voiced, mustering then the will to disguise upset with the practiced costume of a performer. "Are we fit to travel far?" Her voice carried upward in casual diction, but weariness rang through. "The greater distance between ourselves and Elysium, all the better. They may come back to insure we've been dealt with."

She tucked the beautiful lyre beneath one arm and against her side, free hand raised to tuck water-slicked strands of aurum behind her ears. Though the clouds refused to retreat above them and a gentle mist-like rain continued to descend, the sun had indeed begun to make a concerted effort against the wicked overcast sky. It was the first time she took notice of the dawn, gaze climbing heavenward as if in search of some sign from he who chauffeured Sol, of a glimpse of the chariot in which her father stood. And while Calandra would never be able to see it, not from such an expanse, she took comfort in the knowledge that Apollo went with them. She closed her eyes with a mournful sigh, shedding sorrow. His presence, his guidance for her, was as unfaltering as the light he carried from one horizon to the other. They would live on, it told her. They would survive and start anew, as did the day when night retired.

The warming light of the sun did, in fact, bring some small respite to her burdened soul. So when she broke free of the musing which had absorbed her momentarily, she met Sethan's searching, gilded stare with a halcyon regard. She was ever-grateful for the role he played, for the protection he had always given her, for the part he now played regardless of exhaustion. The smile which tugged at Calandra's lips while she took the few steps necessary to close the distance between them was small, but genuine. Taking her place beside the copper-haired warrior opposite from Raxus, she laid a delicate hand atop Sethan's arm.

"We need to be rested, so battle can be on our terms this time. Where shall we go?"


'So let all thine enemies perish, but let them that love him be as the sun when they goeth forth in his might.' - Judges 5:31
Edited by Sashay, 5 Mar 2011, 22:57.
A woman let me put my penis inside of her!

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Mal: Well look at this. Seems we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
Zoe: Big damn heroes, sir.
Mal: Ain't we just.
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tyrade
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It had been several days since the slaughter of their village, and the demis had set up camp in a large clearing in the woods less that a kilometer away from the enemy encampment. They had managed to lay low, setting up a few tents made from salvaged fabric. Everyone who had come with them either had their own tent or shared with a sibling.

Jamie was cooking dinner, occationally glancing over at Dagold's bed. He was still unconsious. His restless movements showed the massive internal battle he was still having to hold onto what was left of his sanity. She sighed as she sent a small, steady stream of fire under the boiling pot to heat up the stew faster. When it was ready she force fed Dagold, helping him swallow. She was always afraid he would wake up violently but with al the times he had protected her the least she could do was keep him alive.

She carried the rest of the stew to the other tents, giving everyone a bowl before sitting on the ground cross-legged to eat her share. It had been made with meat and vegetables salvaged from the farms around the village. The christians had slaughtered the livestock and moved on without taking the meat making gaining supplies easy. They had dried most of the meat into jerky over a fire but left some of it raw for Jamie's cooking. She looked sadly down at her plate. Everything was so happy a week ago. Her brother would come home from work smelling like coal and smoke, she loved that smell. She didn't know whether it was due to her heritage or she simply enjoyed it out of personality, it didn't matter to her.
Edited by tyrade, 6 Mar 2011, 21:43.
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It seems every serial killer is someone you least expect, meaning we are safest around those we expect to kill us
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Wildia
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Sigga

Sigga had moved with the rest of the group without so much as a backwards glance at the home she had left behind. Her father had passed a few months prior to the burning of the village, and anyways, they had never been particularly close. She had nothing to leave but her small cabin on the mountainside, which she had offered to what survivors could brave the harsh conditions and stay there. It was safe, at least.

Safe, however, was far from what her and the rest of the demi-gods were right now. Camped in the woods, so close to their enemies, she felt as if they were on a suicide mission, despite what Sethan may have said. Ah, well. If worst came to worst, she would leave them to their foolish mission and wander elsewhere. Though the half-giantess was not generally a cruel person, her cold heart held very little capacity for sympathy. If they wished to die, then so be it.

At the moment, she was seated outside of Jamie's tent, doing her best to rein in the frost that was forming on the grass around her. She had stripped down to her simple undergarments, shedding the chainmail, leather and fur in favor of a simple linen shirt and a pair of men's briches. Her hair was still tied back in its usual braid, and as ever, her sword and sheild rested beside her. The simple clothing showed more of her form than her usual armor. She was muscular, not disturbingly so, but more than capable of handling herself, that much was certain. She didn't entirely lack the curves that many of the other woman possessed and showed off to attract attention from the men, but neither was she extremely feminine in her build.

Sigga had agreed to continue her guard outside of Dagold's tent, though she would rather have stayed inside to keep better watch on the slightly deranged demi-god. She did not trust him, and did not trust his sister to take care of herself should he wake again. When Jamie placed the bowl of soup in her hands, she merely offered a simple nod, eating her share without so much as a word of praise for the cook.

Skadi's daughter sighed. She did not belong amongst these people. One could only hope that the battle would end quickly and in their favor.

Emu

Emu, on the other hand, was keeping a safe distance from the group. It was not so much that she did not like them, but at the moment, she felt as if she needed solitude, to pray for the upcoming confrontation if nothing else. She was seated at the very edge of the camp, her back leaning against a large tree, all but hidden in the shadows. Gahiji lay on his side next to her, large ears flicking every now and then as the sounds of conversation wafted towards them.

Jamie approached her as well, handing her a steaming bowl of stew. The coal-skinned demi-goddess offered the younger woman a smile, before promptly placing the bowl beside her, opting not to eat. Gahiji did not so much as lift his head. He had been feasting on teh carcasses of slaughtered livestock during the night when Emu would not leave the clearing. Some dried blood still clung to his muzzle, though neither of the two seemed to mind.

Here she was, once again, blocked from the sun and the main source of her power. Hiding in the woods, waiting for the slaughter. Emu shook her head, golden locks creating an odd contrast with her dark skin. She was unsure of this whole thing, especially now that Tora had wandered off to Ra knew where.

Sekhmet's daughter flexed her long fingers, tracing the edge of her blade with ebony digits. This was all about waiting, and Emu was getting tired of the limitted amount of action that was going on. Leaving her bowl of stew behind, she rose with an aggrivated sigh, picking up her scythe, and stalked into the woods, Gahiji fast on her heels. Nobody would miss her while she went for a walk, or so she assumed.
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Lord Synical
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Sethan

The rain had stopped.

It was a minor realisation, yet it hold so much more than simple meaning. The rain had been a representation of their woe, the heavens' tribute to their agony. With its abating, so too had they buried their pain - in favour of survival. Now, more than ever, was that important. Seated nearly eleven feet off the ground upon the branch of an oak tree, the son of Ares had his gaze locked towards the west, towards the Christian camp that had been erected in the woodlands.

In a detached way, he had to admit its ingenuity, namely the fortification. Balustrades rose to tower several metres above the forest floor, a natural clearing expanded to fit their makeshift fortress. Several hastily erected wooden watchtowers contained vigilant, yet confident soldiers - fearless behind their solid walls. Wooden spikes were fused haphazardly to the walls, a mismatched array of painfully large needles ready to puncture clean through the bodies of those foolish enough to crash against the hold.

It was not those that concerned Sethan, however, for he was more than confident in his ability to scale those daunting wooden spears and bring himself into camp. No, it was the sheer number of enemies that were within. From his vantage point, he spotted something nearing four thousand warriors camped in neatly organised tents within the interior, with several makeshift command bunkers fashioned out of wood and stone.

A large training grounds had been erected, and lancers were charging their myriad of warhorses at straw dummies to perfect their aim, light and heavy infantry practising with an assortment of weaponry so diverse that even war's heir was impressed. Templars held sermons in another, quieter part of the encampment and the makeshift mess hall sat in the north east quadrant, right of the training grounds and directly north of the sermon area. The south-western quarter, instead, was the armoury, and prisoner compound.

His grip on the branch tightened upon sighting it, nerves tensing as he observed a line of captives executed at the command of a cavalier, several swordsman parting heads from shoulders. Shifting his gaze away out of anger, more than pity or disgust, Sethan peered at the watchtowers. There were eight in total, two per wall. They would be the greatest obstacle, though, were they to somehow attempt an attack. Wistfully, he wished he had a few giants with him - that would have evened the odds nicely, or even Hades' pet three-headed hound. Plenty of chew toys for Cerberus here.

Laughing silently within, despite his outwards countenance remaining impassive, he shifted his sight to the two others sharing his roost upon the tree, on different branches. Mortals, but defenders nonetheless, two greek soldiers. Speaking, he addressed them cordially, "Opinions?" His voice was a low growl as per usual, but the pair seemed accustomed - dressed in dark leathers with some chainmail adorning their bodies, they had no shine in the sunlight - all three having smeared dirt and mud over their armour, or body in Sethan's case, prior to taking up their posts.

"Seems daunting," said the first, a sandy-haired lad with a permanent grin, named Ordenius. "Could kill a few, I reckon, but we'd more than likely end up dead." The other soldier nodded agreement, scratching his nose and brushing some brown hair from matching eyes, "I rather enjoy being alive, Sethan, if it's all the same to you." In response Sethan merely sighed, looking back to the encampment. "We all do, Mertrand. Dagold will want to launch that attack sooner or later. I'd personally like to be long gone before he has the chance, but we have to rest for some time yet. We can't afford to move when we've no strength."

"Aye, and besides, with all the women--" began Ordenius, only to be cut off.
"Hey now, what does being a woman have to do with anything?" demanded Mertrand abruptly.
"I was only saying, some of them may have their moon blood, and--"
"Oh, so now the natural cycle inhibits them, eh?!" snarled the brown-eyed lad.
"I never bloody said--!"
"You implied--!"
"Don't even get my started on your little--!"
"My little what? You trying to imply someth--!?"
"You bet I am, you puny bit--!"
"Shut up," snarled Sethan suddenly, eyes directed down towards the forest floor. Abruptly, the other two quieted, eyeing the demi-god nervously before glancing down themselves. Below, a small patrol of Christian soldiers had paused and were prodding the tree. Quietly, Sethan thanked Zeus for superstitions, ignorance and the height of Oaks.

"I swear, Darmont," said one of the knights stubbornly, "this bloody tree was talking, it was." One of his fellows sighed and came closer, reaching out to knock on the trunk, "'Ey, wee little wood sprites, come out, come out if'n you're there, so we can gut ya and shut this idjit up." Nothing happened. Wood sprites. Typical. "Y'see Juor?" snorted Darmont, "s'nothing but your darned imagination. Come on, I 'eard them heathen lasses can take a good hit and I'm in the mind for some rough fuc--." Precisely what Darmont had been in the mood in, though well described, was never fully known as an arrow suddenly protruded from the unprotected armour of his neck.

Snapping his eyes to Mertrand, Sethan didn't bother barking a reprimand, instead flinging himself from the tree and grabbing another branch two feet below, swinging forwards to grasp another on an elm and then drop down on top of Juor before he could call for aid, or discover the reason for his companion's sudden peculiar gurgling mockery. The daggertail slid along the young Knight's throat and Sethan grasped both dying soldiers, dragging them into the underbrush before their comrades could return to see what was keeping them.

Not a moment too soon had he slipped behind a large tree trunk before he heard the tell-tale sounds of armoured boots crunching sticks underfoot. Eight by count of his ears, but no Paladins thank the Gods. "Where are those idjits?" Barked one of the troopers, sounding almost bored, "Having fun off the bushes together? Bloody nancy boys, can't even wait to find a wench or cunt amongst them savages." A peal of laughter followed this, sending Sethan's skin crawling.

Hatred bubbled inside of him and he slipped into his natural predatory instinct, moving with barely a sound from his hiding place to a smaller, closer one nearby the patrol. One poor soul had decided to stand a bit apart from the rest, and this was the target that Sethan chose, sprinting out from behind the tree and snapping his whip to lock around the waist of the armoured man, he yanked with both arms and unnatural strength, bringing the knight flying into the relatively darkness of the trees, blade stabbing into his throat almost instantly.

"'ey!" said the one who had commented earlier, "where'd Emrik go?" Another round of laughter accompanied a moment later as one of the larger warriors commented that Emrik may have joined the 'blasphemous banging'. The group leader, however, appeared a touch more concerned - stepping away from his chattering compatriots to peer around. Stealthily, Sethan took advantage of the situation to throw a rock at inhuman speed just through his view. To the soldier, it was little more than a blur - but a blur that piqued his interest.

As expected, he didn't think to call to his comrades, instead using his blade to part the shrubbery... and subsequently fall victim to the chain whip snapping around his throat and dragging him into the undergrowth soundlessly. The laughter continued unabated, his squad too captured up in their own world to notice their apparent leader vanishing. Three bodies now lay within the woods, barely feet away from them, and they suspected nothing. Were it not good fortune, Sethan would have been disgusted - it was a blatant disregard for the most basic rules of warfare and camaraderie.

Looking to the remaining seven, guffawing merrily, Sethan gave a faint bird whistle, something that none of the brainless Christians could recognise. As planned, another chirp replied and Sethan cautiously lifted his left hand into view, curling in all but his fore and middle digits and laying his thumb across the lowered ones, he pointed in a twin-fingered arrow to the squad of guards, making a silent 'snip' gesture before his hand vanished. His blade returned to the grip of his waiting palm and he dropped his whip, golden eyes narrowing as they brightened with the surge of bloodthirst tearing through him.

His leg muscles tensed, hands rising slightly in anticipation when he heard it - twin twangs from high-up bows, two arrows piercing the necks of two soldiers, with two more dead before the others could do more than stare in shock. It was then that war's scion struck, launching himself out of the undergrowth silently, his chain whip snaked out to curl lovingly around the legs of a soldier and rip them out, literally, from under him - sending him to slam facefirst into the dirt whilst the curved hand-and-a-half sword was stabbed forth in a simple arc to pierce the throat of another soldier, torn out as Sethan dropped down to the forest floor upon his knees, stabbing the tip of his daggertail into the back of the leg-less soldier's neck.

The last warrior seemed about to run, when another arrow flew and caught him in the face, piercing his eye in a spray of blood and slamming him back into a tree trunk from the force. Covered in gore, Ares' child rose, nodding up to where he knew the two mortals were before busying himself with hiding the corpses. They would need to keep the trap ready for any other unlucky foreign soldiers to wander through the Elysium Vale.


Raxus

Sethan was gone, loping off to watch the christian encampment with two of the mortal defenders who had chosen to follow them to this location. Jamie was handing out stew, Sigga was revealing rather more than normal - which caused a rather blatant blush on the pale youth when his eyes chanced upon her chest and thighs - and the others were helping set up their temporary camp. It was a messy thing, a disorganized collection of tents and natural shelters organised into a half-hearted circle around the large, smokeless fire that had been conjured.

It would be up to the border patrols to make sure no Christian soldiers found them, and with Sethan out there, Raxus was almost positive the defenders would perform admirably. It was, however, regrettable that Tora hadn't accompanied - Zeus' son knew how skilled she was at captaincy. It was irrelevant of her disagreement, she was needed; everyone was needed. He sighed and tilted his head back, resting upon a vaguely rounded boulder as he stared towards the sky.

It had stopped raining a few hours ago, a sign that they were no longer permitted weakness, according to Sethan. Though for Raxus, it simply emphasized the loss and loneliness. He had come to associate rain and storms with his father and without them... he felt lost. He still had no idea where their mother was, though he suspected she may have been with the elderly who want up the mountain. He hadn't had time to ask Sethan, though Gods knew he had to soon.

He sighed quietly and went back to observing the denizens of the camp. Sethan had told him that he had already been mated to Calandra by Raxus' age, and had been four years bedding her. It was embarrassing he'd not yet found a woman. At least, for his brother. The son of storms himself had no desire for the headache, at current. Of course, a female companion could prove helpful, but who would take an interest in a wimp? The thought made his shoulders hunch a tad more.

Looking away from Sigga's body to avoid staring, he noticed Emu standing distantly at the edge of the natural clearing, her expression dour. Frowning, Raxus rose from his perch and carefully wove his way through the settlement, avoiding the clutter and smaller camp fires to come to a halt beside her, smiling awkwardly, "Not one for company either, huh?"
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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Wildia
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Sigga

Raxus' blatant blushing did not go unnoticed by Sigga. Her blue-grey eyes followed the would-be leader of their little rag-tag party as he hastily turned his gaze away. Something like a smirk crossed her cold features, but it was brief, and she soon sighed. Perhaps it was time to don her armor once more, before some other lad got the wrong idea. Sigga was quite certain that she did not want some man trailing behind her like a puppy. She was quite capable of taking care of herself, and did not much enjoy the company of other people, demi-gods or otherwise, anyways.

She glanced behind her at the tent that she was guarding, and then at the pile of armor beside her. Dagold was sound asleep, or so Jamie said. He could go without her guard for a couple of minutes, couldn't he? She highly doubted that he would wake up in that time. Rolling her shoulders, she stood stiffly, taking the loading of armor with her, and moved off to a small patch of wood behind the tent to change.

Emu

Emu was just about to disappear into the woods, Gahiji at her side, when a voice roused her out of her musings.

"Not one for company either, huh?"

She flinched visibly. Damn, somebody had to initiate conversation with her, didn't they? Turning to face whoever had addressed her, Emu's brows shot up at the sight of Raxus smiling like a bafoon. She almost let out a snort of laughter at the boy, but managed to stifle the sound of amusement. Gahiji stopped as she did, brushing against her legs like a gigantic housecat as he looked up at their new company. A rumbling growl escaped from the massive lion's throat, and his tail flicked back and forth in annoyance.

"... not particularly, no," Emu said, giving the boy a good looking over. He wasn't much younger than she, and taller, just like his brother. Handsome, perhaps, if not for that slouch in his shoulders and the way that he had trouble making eye contact. As it was, the Egyptian was not particularly interested in any sort of company that the Grecian demi-god could provide. The way she saw it, he would only serve to slow her down.

Emu opened her mouth to make up some absurd excuse, when suddenly Gahiji let forth a vicious snarl. He had obvious heard or smelled something with his heightened sense, because he turned back into the forest without a second glance and bounded off, his golden coat soon vanishing in the underbrush. Emu blinked a few times. Something had happened, that much was clear. Gahiji did not often run off on his own, but he was, after all, an animal, and not a pet. She turned back to Raxus, shrugging her ebon shoulders.


The lion made his way through the thick underbrush, her sensitive nose and ears following the sounds of the Christian soldiers and the smell of fresh blood. He had not eaten since they had entered the forest, and the free meal was too much to pass up. It was a bit of shock to the creature, then, when he came upon Sethan, busying himself with hiding the corpses. The cat growled low in his throat, a warning for the demi-god to move off from his meal. He was crouched low, though showed no signs of attacking. Amber eyes followed Sethan's every movement. The son of Ares would likely know exactly where the lion had come from, since cats of that type did not exactly roam freely around that area.
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tyrade
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Jamie returned to the tent to check on Dagold to find his bed empty. She franticly search the camp before finding a trail of dead grass, the moisture sucked right out of it. She followed the path for almost a mile before finding a dead christian patrol. Their deaths were clearly Dagold's handywork: Rough, unstable tritions still melting in the bodies and men cut apart by ice shards long melted. This sight was nothing new to the devil's daughter. It was Dagold's usual work, only a bit more sloppy in his rage.

However the bodies Jamie found less than a half mile further was a completly different sight. She vomited at the gory scene that exceeded even Sethan's violent work which layed out before her eyes.

Men had been literally torn in half by hand, some of them had their limbs removed and had been impaled by the sharp, splintered bones. A man had been strangled with his own spine while another had been implaled through the back of the throat on a lagre tree limb that had been broken and shoved through a soldiers eye. Some had obviously tried to run away only to have their legs ripped out and their necks broken to paralyze them as they laid there and rapidly bled to death.

Dagold's rapid descent into madness had been made clear. She couldn't bear to follow the trail any further in fear of what she may find and the next group he slaughtered without mercy. She ran back to the camp and as she reached it, fell to her knees and wrapped his arms around herself as she cried hystericly. The young girl in her was showing through. She would have been able to handle it had that been Sethan's work, but the idea of her beloved brother falling that far was too much for her to handle.
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Sashay
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There can be only one.
Calandra was a woman of patience, one had to be in order to properly go about a healer's work. And yet, despite her disposition, anxiety crept into her mind and she found waiting silently within their makeshift camp to be more than she could bear. She had to do something, anything was more productive than staring vacantly at the cookfire. Having collected some of the discarded scraps from the production of Dagold's tent, Calandra had taken to carefully wrapping the sheet of canvas in a protective layer around her favored lyre to prevent further harm from coming to it. Honestly, she had marveled while she worked that the instrument hadn't been damaged beyond a few scrapes to the wood's dark finish and a small chip here or there.

With that task completed in far shorter time than expect, Apollo's daughter found herself again without purpose. Jamie was caring for her brother and needed none of her assistance to do so; she had even prepared dinner for the rest of their weary party, but Calandra had no appetite. The bowl lay untouched at her side atop the fallen log on which she sat and she glanced at it every so often. It smelled good, there was no doubt that the girl had a gift for the culinary given how meager their supplies were, but stress made her stomach churn and she would look away.

Everyone else seemed engaged in something; Sethan and a couple of others had taken off to scout leaving Calandra woefully without his reassuring presence, dusky-skinned Emu had wandered off and she had seen Raxus follow suit, and Sigga stood guard over Dagold's tent while Jamie tended him. She could not stand feeling so useless!

Determined to correct that, Calandra slipped forward off of her perch and onto her feet with the scrape of bark accompanying her movement. With great care to test the improvised strap made of braided twine which served to both hold the lyre in place against her back and insure the cloth protecting it did not come free, she shouldered the instrument and bent to collect another larger stretch of canvas from among those unused pieces. The belt around her waist could carry only so much with its tiny pockets, most of which space was already occupied by the two glass vials filled with crushed flora she had thought to bring with her.

It was not enough, however. The amount of numbing weed and antiseptic mush she had on her person would be little more than necessary for a handful of small wounds, and for those of the more severe variety she would be forced to rely on magic alone. Calandra couldn't take the risk that she might not be able to suffice. She had collected medicinal herbs from the woods around Elysium countless times during her life, it would be no different to do the same now and it was doubtful anyone would note her absence.

Rolling the soon-to-be-a-rucksack sheet of cloth neatly beneath her arm, she paused to collect the stolen bow and attach its quiver of arrows to her belt. After all, soldiers could still very well be lurking within the forest and she would be even less productive as a corpse or prisoner.

"Cass?" The healer's sage-green eyes danced in search of Eris' kinder daughter. Two pairs of eyes could see what one might not, after all. "I must go hunting for herbs, I brought few with me. Perhaps we'll find more edibles, too. Will you come with me?"
A woman let me put my penis inside of her!

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Mal: Well look at this. Seems we got here just in the nick of time. What does that make us?
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Mal: Ain't we just.
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Cassandra
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The one who wishes to post.
Runa stood under a large maple tree, eating the stew given to her by Jamie when she heard the voice of Sethan's lover calling to her sister. The sound was enough to cause a loss of appetite. Tossing the remaining contents of her bowl to the ground, she watched her weaker half emerge from their small tent.

Cassandra pushed the cloth doorway of her shelter out of the way to see Calandra standing outside armed with a bow and rolled up cloth, talking about finding some herbs. "Sure thing, though, I don't know as much about what anything is."

She looked to Runa then feeling her sister's resentment. "Do you want to come to? I know you aren't doing anything else right now." Her sister really did need to find something else to do besides pacing around their camp waiting for the fighting to start. It really was sad how her twin seemed so unreasonably angry all the time. Constantly complaining that they hadn't taken out the Catholics. "Come on, what is it really going to hurt for you to do something besides sulking all day?"

Runa sneered as Cassandra actually stood up to her. She hated her sister's weakness, but for the woman to speak to her like that was almost enough to make her strike back physically. "Why in the name of the gods would I want to go with the two of you to pick flowers?"

Her crimson gaze moved then to the daughter of Apollo. Crass eyes lightened as she realized the opportunity this gave her. As much as she loathed the woman, she still needed to find a way to get close to her. So far, she hadn't had her chance, but this? This little venture Calandra proposed could easily lead to trouble.

The sensation of death was close by. Runa had felt the results of Sethan and his group protecting the camp. Soldiers were in the forest and could easily come across the two women as the foraged. "Actually, I'll go with you two. I don't trust that little bow of yours to keep someone from killing Cassandra if the two of you run into those soldiers."

A small smile spread across her lips after she turned from the other two to enter the tent and retrieve her dagger and a sword she had gathered from a dead villager when they fled their old home. When she came back out, she hid the dagger inside her right boot and then tied the sword to her belt. "Lead the way."

Cassandra frowned at her sister's sudden change. It was as if the woman had come up with some sort of sick scheme, but she couldn't read her thoughts. Her deep blue eyes moved between the women, not sure if she should stop her sister or just continue on. She was, after all, the one who invited her to join them. "I'm sure we wouldn't run into any of those men with Sethan and the others protecting the border, do you?"

She had also felt the stinging pain of people dying, but it was only in small bursts. There was little suffering behind it so it seemed obvious it was Sethan's quick work. But, maybe they would need Runa's help with how many she had felt. Surely the other Christians would notice their missing men and send others out to look for them. They could easily come across them if they wandered too far. "If you're sure, then let's go."
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Lord Synical
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Permanently Angry Australian
Raxus

Raxus stood with Emu quietly, observing the trees and forest in conjunction to the dark skinned female. She was tall, and strong, with fierce eyes and skin that seemed to glow. It was strangely enchanting to the younger male, whose own skin was so pale it was nigh translucent. The moon, when it shone, illuminated his skin in a faint shine and the sun rendered it almost unto light. His brother and mother had often told him it was an inherited trait of his father; the ability to bend and manipulate light passively expressed.

Raxus just thought he was pale, pale and unbecoming. He was muscular, of course, but all of them were -- Sethan especially. He had oft observed his brother, watched the seamless way he flowed, the leonine movements that alluded to a predator's battle supremacy. Sethan was never the hunted, never the victim; Ares' son was always at the fore of every battle. It raised envy from the younger brother, though he knew it was foolish; Sethan had been his tutor in battle for years, even if he was craven, though the elder never said it.

Sighing quietly, he brushed some silvered strands from his stormy eyes, blinking around at the foliage, "I always loved forests," he said quietly, sighing in relaxation, "they make me feel at home. Like I'm safe. Sethan said that we become invisible when we're in the trees, surrounded by their presence. We have a better connection to nature. Funny, huh?"
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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Wildia
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Sigga

It was not until Sigga returned, once more clad in her heavy mixture of fur, chainmail and leather armor, that she saw the full extent of her mistake. Had she been a more volatile woman, the demi-goddess might have ranted and raged and frozen half the forest solid in her fury, but as it was, that was not Sigga's way. Her anger, like everything else about her, was cold and calculated. Any hint of relaxation vanished from her features. Ignoring the rest of the camp for the time being, the half-giantess stalked off, following the trail of blood and gore that her charge had left behind.

Here she found the obviously-distressed Jamie, less than half a mile from their make-shift headquarters. At another time, on another day, perhaps, Sigga may have found it in her heart to comfort the girl. Now, however, icy fury speeding through her veins like the most potent kind of poison, what little patience she had previously posessed was used up.

"Come," she growled, the edge of ice in her tone making it clear that this was not a request, but a command. "Nothing can be done for him now. You must return, and we will speak to Sethan when he comes back."



Emu

Emu had returned to staring after her companion when Raxus continued his nervous conversation. The woman's ebon fingers twitched briefly, as if she were about to make a grab for her weapon and follow the lion into the forest, but she resisted the urge, turning now to face Raxus fully.

Sekhmet's daughter had never quite noticed exactly how tall the son of Zeus was. This should not surprise her - he was, after all, a demi-god, and as most demi-gods he was a good deal larger than the average man. Yet now she took a small step back, as if surprised at the height difference between the two. Amber eyes ran the length of his body briefly, before they met his own gaze. Her expression seemed a bit bored, if anything.

"Nature is the root of all of the gods," she replied quietly, the slight accent in her voice taking on an almost melodic tone. "It doesn't much surprise me that the forest takes care of her own. Though I cannot say it is particularly comforting to me. I cannot see my grandfather, when under the cover of the trees."

Here she gestured vaguely to the sun, still partially hidden by the thick foliage. Where beams of sunlight glinted through the leaves, her black skin seemed to absorb it, giving her the appearance of almost glowing. She revelled in it, and while others may have felt a considerable amount of discomfort from the sun's burning rays, Emu only felt a profound sense of comfort. It was a curious contrast to Raxus' pale complexion. It suddenly stuck her how opposite they were - he was like the moon, she, the sun. Standing next to eachother, they were like Bastet and Sekhmet; similar, but opposite at the same time.
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Lord Synical
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Permanently Angry Australian
Sethan's eyes flitted warily between tree trunks, naked torso glistening with faint condensation. His limbs were burning, but he hardly noticed, launching himself like a shadow from branch to branch, balancing on the balls of his feet and hanging from the tips of his fingers in wraith-like observation of the forest floor. A flick of sensitive ears from a prowling wolf in the grass below hinted at his passing, though the son of war was gone faster than the beast could find him. Golden eyes shimmered with reflected luminosity as he darted through the night, ghosting his way towards the trio of women going about their herb picking in the dense undergrowth. A small grin graced his scarred lips at the melody emanating from the comparatively perfect lips of lover, Apollo's scion delivering a soothing rendition of some otherwise blood-heating war song.
Releasing his grasp on the rough bark of his chosen perch, a thick tree limb jutting from an old oak, Sethan landed silently on the dense, damp mud of the earth – eyes locked on the three women. Abruptly, he struck out towards Calandra; sweeping her backwards off her feet to press his lips to hers in sudden assault, a cheeky grin tugging the edges of his normally implacable mouth. “You're getting sloppy.” He muttered in mock criticism, eyes flicking to Cassandra and Runa to note their reactions to his sudden appearance. “You two are also as aware as blind, deaf and tasteless lepers.” Clicking his tongue, he allowed Calandra the use of her feet and beckoned to them, “We must go. It is time for a council.”
Without allowing time for objection, he turned and set off through the brush quiet as a stalking cat, much akin to the baffled lion he had left feeding on the corpses of his slain soldiers. The forest was as a home to the Demi-Gods, a wild place of the world where their more primordial deities held sway. In the lush paradisal woodlands, nothing could harm them. Sethan moved light on his feet, unworried after a time. There were no patrols this deep and far from the Christian's makeshift fortress and as such, his blade was sheathed and daggertail chainwhip linked firmly around his arm.
When eventually they emerged from the trees, a scene of energised activity greeted them. What survivors and healthy travellers had come with them had established a convening point within the camp centre at Sethan's behest under Raxus' direction, a small makeshift pavilion of vines and leaves conjured by some nature spirit or another at an ambiguous demi-god's behest. Campfires burned merrily in smokeless bliss, heating cooking pots that had appeared in the few hours that scavenging parties had been deployed. Salvaged and stolen weapons and mismatched armour taken from slain Christian scouting parties were stacked for use by those who desired them – the pile was unsurprisingly barely touched – and under the natural pavilion, a pair of defenders were pouring over a recently created map.
Leading the three women into the command pavilion, Sethan spoke in his now-usual clipped tone, “Wait here, I've need of others.” Not waiting for reply, he turned on his heel and left them to their devices, winding out through the disordered but functional camp and raising his voice, “Sigga, Raxus, Emu, Jaime. Meet me at the centre of the camp! The rest of you demi-gods, assemble in the same fashion.” A few saluted, some bowed and others merely acquiesced. There was little militant formality amongst the mortals and half-mortals, a familiarity bred from a lifetime of companionship with one another.
“Shall we pull back the scouts?” Inquired one of the human defenders, his burnished tunic darkened by camouflaging dirt. “No.” Answered Sethan, “Keep them on alert, and send more archers. I don't want to be caught unawares by a freak scouting party. Tell them to be more aggressively defensive than ever.” The man nodded and hurried off, leaving Sethan to turn and move back towards the pavilion. It was time for war.
It was time for vengeance.
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Double 'The Fun' Felix, Jul 10 2008
12:55 AM
And I just wanted to say that using different colors in your roleplaying posts is distracting and should probably be avoided unless your name is Lord Synical, because he is an exception. A big exception. To everything. Thanks. He's also batshit insane.
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