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Author Topic: An Adventure in Black - Chapter II  (Read 30177 times)
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Termat Geirskun
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« Reply #15 on: February 18, 2012, 08:30:05 AM »

Gliding above whatever hints of his mental mock discontent had come through to his words, the elf gave her name and swiftly moved on the serious nature of her journey - a journey which it appeared Termat had been successful in joining in the name of whim and chivalry. Biting back the sudden temptation to make any one of a myriad of bad puns about rain that sprang to mind, he restrained himself to continuing the conversation and moving on purposefully towards the deeper shadows of the forest.

“How unfortunate you are, that you cannot attest to my prowess in battle. I can, and meagre is in fact a horrible overstatement. My company should be better; we’d be getting along very badly indeed if my conversation were worse than my sword work. At least conversation is something I’ve done before; my sword still sits unused in my case - thus far thankfully, though if your journey is as dangerous as you say I may have to start being a little religious again, because my guess is that swords will be needed. As to myself,  I am as old as I look, as strong as I am, and not as clever as I’d like to think.

“Anyway, the forest is waiting; as you say, let us pick up the pace and hasten one end or the other - whichever it may be. I hope I shall meet your - indeed, our - companions later on, but I’ll no longer monopolise you. I’m sure the leader of such an expedition has many concerns beyond satisfying the curiosity of an upstart Avennorian - although I would just like to say that any heavy loads can quite easily ride on my cart. I promise I sha’n’t run off with them.”


Having said this, Termat urged the donkey on a little and drew the cart level with himself; from the case nearest him he withdrew a small writing desk from which he extracted pen, paper and ink. With an oddly faraway look in his visage - or was that merely his ordinary abstraction? - he proceeded to write a few lines in a legible though untidy hand as he walked; after a quick line through part of it and a taenish-scratch correction, this is what it read:

Like a zephyr from across the seas;
The scent of pollen on the summer’s breeze;
The jewelled hoarfrost of the winter’s first freeze:
Understatedly radiant,
Calmly vivacious,
And utterly compelling.
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Gilith
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« Reply #16 on: February 18, 2012, 12:23:06 PM »

It gave Gilith a good feeling to be moving towards the forest. Or rather he simply felt good to be moving in the first place. Even if it was towards the strange shadow figure. Either way they would face their danger rather than shirk on the edges of it.

Going over to Termat who apparently hadn't any experiance with a sword he said

"So you have sword. I know you described your skill with a blade but would you mind showing me what you can do when we next stop."

He didn't know exactly how good this man was with a blade but judging by their enemies over all appearence he would have to be better.
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Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
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« Reply #17 on: February 20, 2012, 02:17:30 AM »

As the young man drew his quaint little cart level to himself and pulled out a writing desk, Alýr regarded him with distant curiosity. What a queer individual! But she turned to glance back at Quáel and the rest of the group, who plodded along quite quietly. Perhaps it was the ominous weight of the forest that pressed their voices into silence, or perhaps they, like her, were listening. By now, the forest had grown up all around them, with the eerie croaks and buzzes and rustles that came from the canopies and nearby swamps.

The sight of the figure ahead on the road had troubled Alýr more than she betrayed. It was him--while the figure had been far of and obscured by shadow, the aura he had cast was undeniable. It was then that she felt something in the air, as though they were on the cusp of something. She glanced around her, but saw only her companions and no one else, but someone was near.

She glanced to Gilith, quickly pulling out the box she kept in the folds of her robe and dropping it discreetly in his pocket so quickly and so casually as to almost go unnoticed between any besides the two of them. She then whispered to him: "Tell no one you have it, and do all you can to protect it."

The words had barely left her lips when all around them, from through the shadows between the trees, emerged white, almost-ghost-like figures, with eyes red and brooding and eyes dark and sunken. The figure that had appeared almost as an apparition on the road ahead now appeared again, far closer than before, though not so close as the figures who were coming nearer and nearer, enclosing them, each one's eyes fixed on a member of the group.

Then, all at once, they attacked.


[Please check OOC before posting]
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Gilith
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« Reply #18 on: February 20, 2012, 03:09:07 AM »

"Sure" He wispered back. He didn't know why his employer entrusted him with this but it didn't matter. It only matterd that he was paid to protect her and her property and he was going to complete the job.

Yet he wondered again if there was more to this adventure than just a single job. It involved forces he had no comprehension of. It was he decided a cause he would gladly die for.

Though the Ranger was deep in thought but he was not caught unaware. He saw the ghost figures before they attacked. He was already on edge from the shadow figure and Termat causeing him to almost never let go of his sword. So when the strange creatures attacked he was completly ready. He drew his sword instantly and instinctivly stepped in front of his employer to sheild her from any attack. One of the figures lunged at him. He had no idea what it could do to him but he wasn't willing to find out.

He swung his sword with both hands at the creature. He hit it before it hit him but then it exploded or so Gilith thought into a white vapor.

He couldn't see, Couldn't defend himself, couldn't defend his employer, he couldn't even swing his sword for fear of hitting his allies.

Yes he was disoriented but he was not defeated. He quickly jumped to the side and then came slightly backward out of the terrible cloud.

Now he could see now he could fight and at least they could be killed.

Another figure lunged at him. He avoided it narrowly. Then it swung again and so did Gilith. They met an inch away from Gilith's head and again the abamonation eveloped him.

He was angry not frightened but angry. He again waisted precious seconds disentangling himself from the cloud like thing. When he did he see his employer. Once again he moved to protect her and the others as he had gone off the road by at least 3 peds.
« Last Edit: February 20, 2012, 03:14:34 AM by Gilith » Logged

Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
Ridgen Sú'ufanán
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« Reply #19 on: February 20, 2012, 04:52:15 AM »

The fact that the female elf who had accepted his offering of foods had collapsed was quite disturbing on it's own. The look that Rayne had given him soon after had 'I need to talk to you, but not now,' written all over it - that means it must be quite serious. Despite this, Ridgen found his mind wandering off to whereverland when they met the young human that offered to accompany them. Instead of acknowledging the man's presence, though, the elf's thoughts were focussed on the... thing they fought earlier. It appeared further up the road a moment ago - who knows what it could be up to.

The situation was disturbing. Very much so. Enough to put the magician on edge - certainly more than enough to make sure he always had one hand on the Deathfrost. That was a good thing, too, because soon enough, they had a number of ghostly creatures charging at them. Ew.

"You little things need to spend some more time in the sun," Ridgen commented, drawing his rapier in one swift movement. He could do that much properly. These things didn't look very nice, hopefully they aren't very strong, either.

A thought passed his mind. Could his employer fight? Should anything happen to Rayne, that could spell a lot of trouble for them. That cannot do. He sho- well, maybe after taking care of these little ghostly things, because they happen to be rather eager to uhm... tear out someone's throat. Yeah.

"Little impatient, aren't you?" the elf said as he sidestepped a creature's opening attack and responded with his bread and butter magic/sword combination - a little scattering of the target's attention (Distraction) followed with a well-aimed stab - through the creature's heart. That was easy. The mist that resulted was very annoying though. Stepping around it, Ridgen found himself being confronted by another ghostly creature. And another. Fortunately, fighting two easily killed things at once was not beyond the elf's abilities.

The things did not last long. After one or two thrusts from his sword, they burst into that irritating mist - again - with an odd popping noise. More ew.

In the commotion the elf soon found himself standing next to his employer and the newcomer. "Irritating, aren't they?"
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"Everything is a game - some people just don't realise that."
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Termat Geirskun
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« Reply #20 on: February 20, 2012, 08:30:07 AM »

Termat was just stowing his desk away when the burly woodsman came up to him and began to ask him about his skills with a weapon; he seemed concerned about just what Termat would be able to do. As he was about to answer, and while the case was still open, Alýr moved closer to them and whispered briefly to Termat’s interlocutor; holding his tongue for a moment, Termat began to straighten the contents of his case. His sword was on the very top of this one, and he placed his hand on it with the intention of showing it to his new acquaintance.

All of a sudden, the group was surrounded by strange pale figures with a demonic bent to their countenances and a malevolent mien to their actions. Gripping his cutlass tightly, he glanced at his new brother in arms and, in the moments before they were attacked, he said, “Well, it appears you’ll not have to wait until we stop. Shall we say that if I survive, I was good enough for now?”

As soon as he had spoken, the strange white figures were upon them. His companion did not reply - there was no time - but rather began to move with trained grace; however, Termat could not watch for long, as he had his own foes to deal with. One bore down on him with a grimly hellish look in its eyes; with no time to bring his weapon to bear, Termat ducked his shoulder and drove into the attacker’s sternum. Although the slim, pale being did not fall over, it staggered just long enough for Termat to bring his sword swinging around - and at that precise moment one of the other ones exploded in a cloud of white vapour at a sword-stroke.

Although he could not see, Termat felt his blade connect with something, and was understandably relieved when no retaliatory strike came hurtling out of the blinding fog. By his hand he felt the rough wood of the cart, and leapt up onto it and above the cloud. To his front stood Alýr; puffs and clouds of white smoke marked the demise of more foes at the woodsman’s skilled hands. Another of the strange figures was directly ahead of them on the path, heading right at the apparently defenceless leader of their mission - or perhaps, Termat realised, at him. The being had not yet reached the cart, and so with a young man’s fitness Termat leapt from the cart and with a young man’s foolishness stood face to face with the thing. As Termat swung his cutlass - The easy thing about cutlasses is that there’s no need for much skill, he thought - it lunged for his throat; but as Termat moved to his left to swing it lunged into thin air and onto the blade.

Pulling out a cloth from a pocket inside his jacket, Termat proceeded to clean the strange residue of their unearthly foes off his sword and wipe his face and hands distastefully. He became aware as he did so of yet another elf standing beside Alýr and him; this elf was speaking.

“Irritating, aren’t they?”

“Hugely. It’s all over my jacket - and your sword, by the looks of things. And my blasted cravat; that was freshly laundered, you vaporous beasts!”
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Irid alMenie
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« Reply #21 on: February 20, 2012, 09:00:18 PM »

Before a final decision was made regarding the young man, the group was suddenly surrounded by figures, white and very ghost-like, though their eyes were an eery red. They seemed to have come from nowhere, earlier there had been nothing there. Drawing her daggers, Irid regarded them. For a moment they were just standing there, watching, but as if on an invisible signal, they attacked.

Irid focussed on the spectre closest to her. Despite his ghost-like appearance, he seemed solid enough - at least she could not see through him. As he came closer, the elfess brought down her weapon in an arch, aimed for his arm. It did connect, but the consequence was not nearly what she had expected - instead of blood and perhaps a yelp, the figure burst into a white cloud, obscuring her vision. Taken aback, she raised a hand and waved her dagger back and forth - the vapour seemed unhurt.

She stepped back a few paces to try and clear her vision, and collided with another of the ghostly figures. It reached cold fingers for her. Quick as a flash, another dagger came down, and the same thing happened, envelopping her in a white cloud. What in Ava's name were these things? They were not quite as strong as the demonic creatures they had fought in the inn, but they were so annoying. She was getting disoriented from turning around too quickly and getting more and more vapours around her. Somewhere in the fog, she could hear a comment about how annoying they were.

She knew that she would have to find a way to avoid actually hitting the spectres. So long as she did not hit them, they seemed to keep their solid form. But how did  you fight something without hitting it?
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Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
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« Reply #22 on: February 22, 2012, 09:15:55 PM »

The psyrpent snorted in anger at the new figures assailing the group. He had killed menacing creatures before, but he had not encountered anything like the ghostly beings he now faced. These things seem to disperse their body upon being hit, as some of the people with him had demonstrated. He had no time to ponder their existence though, as the rest of his companions began taking up battle positions to combat these unknown threats.

David must have felt the same too. He laid back his ears and bared his teeth, showing a  row of fangs that can literally tear the jugular from a person. His form is capable of taking down opponents larger than him, but the psyrpent would not allow him to engage these things. The safety of the dog is one of his concerns, as well as keeping the wooden box intact. But boxes can be replaced once destroyed, and unfortunately he only had one David for the rest of his life. He motioned for the dog to run and look for a hiding place until all this is over. He would cover the dog in case some of these beings decided to follow him. The dog looked at the psyrpent intently, trying to decipher his command, and as a loyal hound should he darted off to obey the snake-man.

Then without warning, one of the things lunged at him.

But the psyrpent was waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He lifted his hammer above his head then swung it downwards with a massive force. stones that were caught in the impact were shattered and the ground where the blow landed slightly shook. He looked up and saw the thing literally burst into a smoky substance, and all he got for his effort were cracked pebbles and an aching side from exertion. He winced in pain and held the flesh wound, while using the shaft of his great maul as support.

The fog released by the creature is most unsettling. He was nearly blinded by it, and the psyrpent kept a battle-ready position in case more start to home in on him. Then he began to feel uneasy, as if he was forgetting something.

David!

Jarrox panicked. He was so taken up with the vapor creatures that the thought of looking for his dog had slipped his mind entirely. He spun around, trying to find the direction his dog had fled into.
« Last Edit: February 23, 2012, 03:21:23 PM by Serpentfang » Logged

Quáel
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« Reply #23 on: February 23, 2012, 08:45:18 AM »

Commotion constricted the air around Quael. All around, white vapor was being sent into the atmosphere, obscuring everyones' vision. Red, glowing eyes were all that could be seen through the fog, and in an instant there were a pair staring right into Quael's.

The ghost-like figure swiped at her face, but Quael got her sword out sooner, and slashed at the head of the monster. It seemed as if the figure was solid, but once struck by the sword it evaporated into a thick white smoke. As predicted the clould of fog clouded Quael's eyes and she could see virtually nothing.

It took much waving of the arms to get rid of just a miniscule bit of the smoke, but after it dissapeared Quael found herself dangerously close to Gilith, as he was swinging his sword. She wasn't sure how many of the creatures were left, but she couldn't see any of the other party members fighting at the moment.
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Nothing peirces the soul more than eyes do.
Quáel
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« Reply #24 on: February 23, 2012, 02:35:56 PM »

The vapours rose and twisted and thickened. It was as though a dozen sudden fogs were blooming around them, obscuring more and more the scene and sounds. The words spoken seemed to get dimmer and dimmer--fainter and fainter--and the fog grew thicker and thicker until no member of the group could see anything.

The cloud-blindness was but temporary, though, for after a moment, the vapours began to rise and thin. They seemed to ascend into the canopies, and up farther still to where the leaves shut out the brilliant rays of the sun. The fog retreated, backing through the forest until it was gone. And the forest itself seemed to be exactly as before, with its shadowy, mysterious airs and noises, and the dense thicket and crowded trees... only for every member of the party now found him or herself alone in the wilderness.

By some strange sleight of hand, by a peculiar magic, each member now stood by himself or herself in the midst of an unknown wood. The others had all but vanished, and not even their voices could be heard.

Alýr looked about her with confusion, the hood of her robe falling back to reveal the locks of her silver-tinged black hair. As she turned to look for her companions, she was all at once caught by a form that set a blade upon her throat and, with his other hand, pressed her lithe body back against a tree before rummaging through the pockets of her robes.

She recognized the dark hair and pale complexion of the man who had attacked her in the inn--and escaped. He was dressed in black, from his black leather boots, to his black breeches, to his black coat with its high color. His eyes looked almost black, save now, when the anger in him made them flash crimson. Through the dark curls on his head seemed to be the beginnings of black horns--though they were well hidden.

"Defalgren..." the indigo-eyed elf said in almost a whisper, startled, though his presence seemed not to surprise her. She did not struggle against his dagger at her throat or his rummaging through her pockets--not only because he was far taller and stronger, but because she seemed to fear no harm or discovery.

"Where is it, you damned reflection!"

"You won't find it," she said, her voice strangely calm. "Remove the dagger. As long as you haven't the box, you cannot use it. You know you cannot afford to destroy me."

"Insolent wench!" he screeched, and withdrew the dagger only to, in rage and frustration, hit her hard upon the cheek, causing her to stumble from the blow. He spoke through his clenched teeth: "The sacrifices I have made, the trouble you have caused--and when at last I seemed to have it, you have given the damn thing to someone else's keeping."

She glared up at him, her lip bleeding from the hit, but her eye steely and strong. "I will do everything I can to stop you. I tell you I do not have the box, though I know who holds it."

"As soon as I find it," he began, grinning with malicious vengeance, "there will be no reason left to let you live."

Alýr searched his eyes: "Where are the others?"

"Spread across this forest. You may know who has the box, but I know where all your companions are."

"You will never find it," she replied.

From out of his dark sleeve, a strong white hand darted to grab her by the neck and draw her close--his lips practically on her neck as he spoke: "Keep in mind, shadow, that there are many things I could do to you without killing you." As he spoke, his hand grew tighter and tighter about her neck and she struggled for air. "Do not forget where you are." Tighter and tighter--and at the moment before the faint, he released her, and she stumbled back upon the tree, gasping for the sweet air.

She glanced up, but by the time she did, it was too late. He was gone.
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Irid alMenie
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« Reply #25 on: February 24, 2012, 08:19:22 PM »

Irid turned this way and that as the vapours rose and thickened. She could see no more of the pale figures, and none of her companions. She had no idea anymore which way was north. At first there had still been the voices of the others, but after a while they were silent. Just as she was about to call out, the mists rose, leaving her somewhere in the forest, but not on the road anymore.

What just happened? Had she blacked out? On the one hand, she was alone, which might suggest she had, it would not be the first time that she left her companions behind in that state. But on the other, the sun high overhead seemed to still be in the same position as before the attack, and she was pretty sure she had been conscious throughout. Perhaps she would learn later what had happened - for now she would have to try and find someone, anyone.

The trees around her suddenly seemed more threatening, now that she was alone. And she was used to living in a forest, but this one was just not the same as her home, somehow. Hitching her pack on her shoulders - at least she still had that - she sheathed her daggers, which she still had in her hands, and started walking, careful where she walked and trying to remember what she knew about this place. She hoped to find someone soon.
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Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
Gilith
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« Reply #26 on: February 25, 2012, 02:29:06 AM »

Gilith once more pondered the events that had transpired. He could think of nothing to do in a situation like this that didn’t have a consequence. First there was the box. He had no idea what it was nor what it could do, he only knew it was important. He thought about looking inside of it but decided against it as it was given to him by his employer and she was a mage which would mean this would likely be magically trapped.

All of these thoughts however were put to the side as he saw a small clearing not much but at least it was a little bit of something. Though he would have liked to keep moving he knew that he couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. He set down his pack and took off his cloak.

He spent the next ten minutes gathering different sized branches of wood and whatever stone he could find. Then he dug himself a hole for a fire. He needed to clear a spot where the grass wouldn’t be set to flame so he dug a roughly large hole.
When he was finished he set down his kindling and looked inside of his pack for his flint and steel.  When he found his tinder box he pulled out some of his spare cloth and a flask of oil. He dipped the cloth in the oil then at certain spots he put the oil on some of his kindling and larger branches. When he finished he had half a flask left so he put that away in his pack.

Then he lit the fire by striking his steel against the flint. It lit easily and he blew on it and added branches until he had a semi large fire going then he added leaves from the forest as they gave off a lot of smoke.
He built himself a small shelter rigging his two cloaks above him and using three tightly placed trees he was able to make an acceptable shelter.

He didn’t know the way out of the forest so he drank none of his water but did however put on some of the bacon he had brought with using his pan and skillet. This was of course going to attract things but that was his objective anyway so he may as well go all out. From his shelter he could see the fire and his pack would fit with him. It was open a little to much on the one side as it didn’t have a wall. But he needed to see.

His next thoughts were to where he could find a stream if one was close by good he would purify it later. But for now he lay down his bow and stuck five arrows next to him as well as drew his sword. Then he waited for his bacon to be done. When it was he took took one off the pan with his knife and left the other four peices cook a while longer.

Just as he finished his first peice however he looked up to find red eyes staring at him and a growling from the shadows.
« Last Edit: February 25, 2012, 06:44:04 AM by Gilith » Logged

Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
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« Reply #27 on: March 01, 2012, 09:09:33 AM »

Gilith leaped out of the way of the deadly fangs just in time. AS the demon wolf creature a redish greyish wolf with  overlarge fangs and claws as well as a hiena like face. The ranger jumped backword into his shelterish structure. This was a terrible move for almost every reason but one. His sword lay there next to him. The unholy creature lunged once more and once again Gilith avoided death narrowly by attempting to stab the creature. He was unsuccesful as the wolf simply slid under his blade. He turned his blade sideways now holding the wolf creature back but barely.

The wolf almost tore through his neck and would have to if it hadn't been for the dagger he neatly slid under the ribs of the creature.

He took a deep breath and went for his bow. He was completly unnerved from the attack but was not about to lethis gaurd down. This turned out to be pretty wise as when he looked back he saw another demonic creature charge him.



he shot his shoulder then leg then his side. It was all very fast and accurate yet it did nothing to stop the creature. He dropped hi bow and swung his swordsplitting the skull of the maddened creature. Even then it still wrigled for another ten seconds before dropping. Blood was splatterd all over Gilith. Not on any f his things but it was annoying enough. He needed something to calm him and instanly he was about to reach for his whiskey.

Unforunatly this was interupted by the appearence of another strange creature. This time a man.

"Give it to me." he said simply.

"Give you what" Gilith responded. Knowing perfectly well what he wanted.

"Fine" he said without emotion "give it to me now or shout it out as my pets devour you I do not care but I will attack you all night until I get the information but first a present.."

When he said this he threw his dagger. It hit him righ in the shoulder and split one of his meddle studs. After that the wolf lunged at him.

AAAAHHHH!!! he screamed as he was hit and it became louder as he battled the wolf cutting up so much more of his flesh. He couldn't win the battle it seemed he was to slow compared with this thing. He only kept him at bay with his sword until he kicked the now dead fires hot coals into its face. When the demon howled with pain he plunged his sword into the ground and stuck the wolf there even as it tried to kill him with its dying breath.

Ahhh! he screamed again as he pulled out the blade which dissapeared when he did. He was now covered in his own red blood as well as the black blood of the demons. Of course the demon man was nowhere in site.

But after he restarted the fire ate all of the cooked bacon and poured wiskey both on the wound and down his throat he did feel a bit better.

When he was done with those things he bandeged his torn arm. Nothing to bad but really painful. Su he put yharle and miyu in it along with some bandages and then simply waited with his sword drawn.



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Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
Irid alMenie
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Elf, Quaelhoirhim


« Reply #28 on: March 01, 2012, 11:21:01 PM »

Irid stopped walking suddenly. There had been a movement up ahead, caught just in the corner of her eye. Was it someone from her party? She did not think so, they would not be quite so furtive, even if the forest around them was a bit disconcerting. Hitching her pack higher on her shoulders and then taking one of her daggers - just in case - she went on more cautiously. She felt that something was about to happen, and the anticipation was a palpable weight.

And then it happened. Seemingly out of nowhere, a form was suddenly standing before her. His curly hair just barely covered two horns. The shock of seeing him so suddenly, even when she had been on her guard, combined with her usual reaction on seeing the demonic creatures that had attacked them in the inn, sent her sense of self spiralling away, to be replaced by another consciousness. She bared her teeth, growling low at the figure approaching her. She still had the dagger in her hand from her precaution before, but it lay there uselessly, as if she had forgotten it. Her elfish ears moved and twitched, almost like a wolf's, to warn off the invader, though he seemed unperturbed.

"Where is it?" he said, though she did not understand the words - all that she heard was sounds, and not pleasant sounds. Crouching down in an aggressive position, she growled again, a warning growl - come closer at your own peril. Her golden eyes showed a feral sort of intelligence, though all traces of sentience were gone. Apparently exasparated with her reaction, the figure moved a step closer, repeating his first question with more urgency, nearly shouting. "One of you has it. Tell me where it is, and I might let you live." His step was one step too close for her, and his tone too aggressive. With the logic of a wild creature, she attacked before she could be attacked. And not with the dagger that she was holding, no. In a move that the demon could not have foreseen, she flew at him and bit him in the arm. She did not let go once she had hold of him, either, instead sinking her teeth in and holding on for all she was worth.

A curse, though she did not recognise it as such, and then she was suddenly flying backwards with a pain in her chest where the demon had hit her. She had underestimated his strength again, though in this case she could not really be blamed, as she did not actually remember the previous fight. She landed against a tree, knocking her head in the process. She did not know any more as darkness engulfed her, and she lost all form of consciousness, whether wolfish or elfish.
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Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
Serpentfang
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Psyrpent


« Reply #29 on: March 10, 2012, 01:41:07 AM »

Thick fog enveloped the psyrpent again, and when it lifted his companions are nowhere to be found.  He looked to his left then in the other direction, carefull not to shift his position. In this fog one can easily lose his direction, and he needs to go towards the path his dog ran off to. He walked carefully, crouching every now and then looking for signs of his lost dog. He chopped a notch on every tree that he came across, using it as some sort of a guide in order not to get lost. For every pause he made he peered at his surroundings, watching for any signs of wild animals that could suddenly attack him.

The light rustling sounds of dead leaves accompanied the psypent as he slowly made his way towards the direction David ran off to. He walked some more, and it seems that the deeper he got into the forest, the fog gets thicker. He came to a small stream, with some smooth stones around it. He cut a notch on a nearby tree, then knelt beside the stream and took a long sip. It was cool and refreshing, but unfortunately he can't stay. He had to find his dog as soon as possible.

"The elves won't appreciate your act of defacing their forest."

The psyrpent quickly stood up, hitting his head on a low hanging branch of a tree in the process. He snarled and gave it a quick rub, then readied his maul. A pale humanoid figure appeared a few peds before him, wearing black clothes from neck to feet. "And they loathe your kind," he added.

He looked as if he was hovering a bit off the ground. He came closer, and the psyrpent clutched his hammer all the tighter.

"They hate your kind simply for being lizard-folk. Well, I think we can come to a compromise." The demon sat down on one of the stones, his movement fluid like that of the river itself. Jarrox growled ominously, but kept his guard. The demon snorted in return then spoke once more. "I see you're not one for idle talk. Very well. Give me the box, and with it I'll kill all the elves for you." The psyrpent shook his head slowly. He knew full well the meaning of trust and loyalty -- and he won't imitate the treacherous ways of the elves.

"Oh, and did I mention, I know where your dog is? He could be with you right now, if you choose."

The psyrpent's crimson eyes widened for a moment. He would readily give the demon what he wanted, but unfortunately he had no inkling on the location of the box. He was getting desperate in looking for his dog, and the only person he knew that carried the box was Alyr. At this time the demon's offer was very tempting.

"Female knife-ear..."

The demon approached him with inhuman speed and slapped him with force. "Do not toy with me, snake! She does not have it!"

Jarrox staggered backwards a little bit, then faced the demon angrily. He swung the heavy maul sideways, but the demon evaded it with the same inhuman speed he employed earlier. "Very slow -- typical for a snake-man." The psyrpent attempted a psionic attack, but it seems like the demon was unaffected by it.

"Hah! Hide it if you like, but I will find it. I'll let you off for today -- maybe kill you later. And what's with the glare? Constipation?" With an insulting snicker the demon disappeared, along with most of the fog.

The psyrpent knelt down, rubbing his side where the dagger wound was located. It acted up after swinging the maul. From the distance he heard a loud bark, and a few blinks later David appeared. The dog got tired of waiting and decided to sniff him out. Seeing his friend unharmed seemed to lift a heavy load off him, and he sighed in relief as David went to his side and sat down, waiting for his master to finish whatever he is doing.
« Last Edit: March 10, 2012, 12:08:53 PM by Serpentfang » Logged

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