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Author Topic: After the Apocalypse  (Read 8736 times)
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Randagaar Van Dorn
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« on: June 02, 2005, 03:05:22 AM »

The giant northman sat by the fire, feeding it occasionally from a nearby wood pile. He was glad to have the dark elf Mana on watch with him. As was the nature of her kind she was not much in the way of conversation. But she was ever vigilant and her night vision he knew could rival that of an owl.

Earlier he had boiled some water and she had graciously cleaned and bound the wound to his left flank, treating it with some healing ointment from his supplies. After he had bathed away the blood and sweat he donned a fresh shirt and his patchwork leather long coat, leaving his breast plate in the wagon for the time. Randagaar fished out an apple while at the wagon and dropped it into his coat pocket for later, then took his bundle of maintenance tools and returned to his spot by the fire.

The Remusian sat in vigil over his sleeping comrades and quietly cleaned and sharpened his weapons, making sure they were keen and well oiled. Over his shoulder he observed the elf maiden had restrung her bow and was testing its pull.

“Morcanaan is leaving.” She said quietly.

“Aye, perhaps he needs to relieve himself.” The giant pondered, searching the darkness for his brother in arms.

“He has taken his horse, Rand.” The elf replied.

That is when the apocalypse came. The weaver’s attack had come swift and brutally. The sky itself seemed to tear in half as the night was shattered by a blinding light which forced the giant to shield his eyes. Then came a sound as if rolling thunder from the ground itself as the earth shook with such force that the great northman was thrown off his feet and stunned. The warrior lost all sense of direction, of up or down, his head swam wildly and he felt as if he were tumbling through some void until at last unconsciousness claimed him.

-----------


Slowly the giant picked himself up off the ground. How long he had lain there he did not know, but it seemed it was no longer night. It seemed that dawn had come, though the sun was obscured, indeed blotted out, by thick clouds of purple and black that covered the entire sky. Slowly Randagaar turned about in three hundred sixty degrees, seeking to gain his bearings. All was gone. His friends, his wagon, all his possessions save what he had on him. The entire bandit camp. The forest, the cave. All gone. In fact it did not seem he was any longer in the foothills overlooking the Thaehelvil river, the terrain was too level. All there was was ash covered ground as far as he could see. No sign of any other living thing.

Was he even still in Santharia he wondered? Had he been swept away to some distant land? Was he in Hell? Had the attack been leveled against him alone? Against the party at large? Or had all of Caelereth been torn asunder? Such were the questions that swept through the mind of the northman, in such quantity that he managed only a few steps in a random direction before collapsing to his knees in despair.

“Hello!” He cried out. “Is there anybody out there?!? In the name of Kor’och, is there anyone there?” Tears of fear rolled down the giant’s face and he pulled Helm Splitter from his side and propped himself up with it. Resting his forehead against the heel of the axe blade as he knelt there, he prayed to his god for strength. For bravery. For some sign of what to do next.

Then came a sound. A snorting sound. The big man peered up from his axe. A lone stag stood a dozen or so peds distant regarding the human warily. A feeling of relief overwhelmed the giant at the sight of another living creature. He chuckled to himself almost as if a madman and he came to his feet.

“How have you come to be here?” He asked the stag as he wiped the tears from his face with his sleave. “Did you some how survive the hollocaust? Where you swept here by the same forces which have brought me hence? Or are you from this strange barren land?” If nothing else the presence of another living thing had restored Randagaar’s sense of hope.

He retuned his axe to the ring at his hip and pulled the apple from his pocket offering it to the stag which sniffed at the air cautiously. Slowly the animal approached. The northman remained very still. Soon the beast came near enough to stretch out its neck and take the apple from the giant’s hand. Randagaar reached out to stroke the side of the stag’s neck. To reassure himself that it was real, and the animal whirled about and ran off in the direction from which it had come.

With a sigh, Randagaar checked his water skin. About a firkin was all it held. He would need to find a source of water soon or he would be a dead man. The tracks of the stag were easy to follow in the layer of ash that covered the ground, so the giant proceeded in that direction, wondering who, or what he might encounter in this bleak gray world.


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/5/05 16:38
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Bobbo the Beggar
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« Reply #1 on: June 02, 2005, 06:40:22 AM »

Bobbo was not sure what hour it was.  Alone in darkness and partially intoxicated he lay on the ground deep in thought for many hours.  The trees and grass were still a little unfamiliar to him after his years of living in the desert.  He wore his cloak wrapped tightly about his shoulders against the chill night air.

Then he saw the sky light up.  Even with his eyes closed he managed to see the brightness through the thin eyelid skin.  Out of impulse he quickly jolted to his feet and drew his sword.  He blinked to try and dispel the sleepy film cast over his eyes and the brightness burns.

Before he could even make out anything, the ground seemed to turn to a violent, rushing sea of dust.  He fell to the ground from the quaking, and his head crashed against a rock, letting blood run and knocking him unconscious.

*  *   *  *  *  *   *  *   *   * ** *** * *  *   *   *   * *

Bobbo awoke with a splitting headache.  He moaned before bringing himself to open his eyes and let in anymore painful light.  When he did so, though, he found that there was very little light.  The sky was darkly overcast, but he could vaguely tell that it was morning.  He did not recognize any of the surrounding territory either.  The ground was flat and covered in ash.  He coughed to get some of it out of his lungs, as it had slipped in while he slept.  Still, this was not the immediate concern for him.  The more important matter at the present was the awful pain coarsing through his skull.

He brought his arm up to touch his forehead, and found crusted over with semi-dried blood.  Must have been a nasty fall he thought while he wiped some more of the crusty substance from his face.  He wondered if his old bones could take it, but he knew deep down they could.

He needed to find water to clean his wound, but as he looked around everything seemed to be dry and dead.  Hmm he thought Looks like things are back to the way they are back home.  Dry and seemingly dead.  Is this place like the desert, hiding its life away?  What is this madness?

He stood to his feet and walked around a little to see if he saw anything else.  As he paced about, he felt something hard buried in the ash.  He quickly knelt and dug it up.  Well, at least I still have you, old friend he thought as his faithful blade Avenger was unearthed.  'Twas a little dusty, but ofterwise in fine condition despite a disquieting warmth to the metal.  He emptied his scabbard of the dust that had gathered in it and sheathed his sword.

As he examined the landscape further, he realized something incredibly powerful must have hit.  He hoped dearly that it was only the nearby area that was damaged.  Knowing that staying here would accomplish little, he decided to head off towards where he reckoned the town of the Hogg should have been.

The old man coughed, as he had breathed in a great deal of ash.  He coughed it all out of his lungs and decided to employ an old trick of the desert.  Ripping a bit of his cloak off, he tied the cloth around his mouth to block the passage of ash into his systems.

Gathering his strength, he headed off to see if anything was left of the Hogg.

Tell me which is better:  to die defending your country or to live and watch your homeland die?
Ralai, King of Adylius

Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:12
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Manik Targin
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« Reply #2 on: June 04, 2005, 12:28:22 AM »

Manik was walking out of the Seagorn Garrison of the city of Nyermersys to spar with this man Certhigo. He didn’t want to, but in order to join the guard, he felt he couldn’t back down or lose their respect. With a sigh he stepped out into the night, it was cool, calm and refreshing. The moon lit up the courtyard with its glow, making the night a great one for a spar. He walked over to his quarterstaff to pick it up, but before his hand reached it, a low rumble vibrated through the ground and into his bones. Manik turned his head to peer across the courtyard, everyone else seemed to have heard it too. Then suddenly an earsplitting crack bore into the night and the ground around him started to crack and divide. He had heard tales of earthquakes, but had never experienced one, they were said to be made by powerful magi. Fear ran through Manik’s veins as the ground under his feet started to fall, and the night started to fly away. But just as suddenly as he started to fall, he was catapulted into the air. The sky, the city, the ruin flashed by in an instant as he was sucked into the now howling winds pulling him into blackness. He wanted to struggle, but it seemed no use. Darkness quickly enveloped him.


When he came awake, he was lying under a pile of ash. Dawn was peeking over the edge of Caelereth, and purple and black clouds littered the sky. As he stood up, pain in his ribs and head became very real, but after inspection, Manik concluded that his ribs weren’t broken, and his head only had a slight ringing. Memory shot back into him, and he fell back to his knees. “Everything….. everything…. is….gone,” he whispered to himself. He had been in the great city of Nyermersys, now he was in a wasteland of scarred earth. Manik’s mood was dismal as he started to ponder whether this was the underworld, but was interrupted by some movement not so far away. A figure glided out from around a small rise. Manik leaped up and started racing towards it. “Hello! Hey! Over here!” he yelled, but the winds must have obscured the sound. Coughing on ash, once he got closer he realized it was a man. “Thank the Gods,” Manik exclaimed to himself. Once he got a little closer, and was sure the man would hear him he hollered, “Hello there! Over here!”

Edited by: Manik Targin at: 6/5/05 18:11
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Morcaanan
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« Reply #3 on: June 04, 2005, 01:20:22 PM »

By Inthadins light...

But Inthadins light was not there.

He glanced around. Cur was gone. Everything was gone...

Ash and dust covered him, and he coughed and wretched like a beast. What had happened? Justice, protect your servant.

He stumbled to his feet and looked around him. The landscape was a desolate wasteland, and fear prickled up his spine at the sight of this desolation.

Then he looked up and saw...

"Randagaar! Randagaar! Over here!" He jumped and waved his arms, creating a small cloud of dust. "You big fat giant, over here!!" he cried and started running towards the warrior.

Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:12
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Tythle Fi thea
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« Reply #4 on: June 05, 2005, 04:58:22 AM »

Tythle had been sleeping for only a few moments it seemed when the ground started heaving underneath him. Out of pure habit he whistled for Scion, and grabbed for his bag and bow which laid beside him, as the elf tried to rise to his knees. Scion came blundering into his master chest, like the air itself was unstable as the ground beneath him. Curling himself into a ball around his bird and his possessions the last thing he hear was scions alarmed twitter.

---------------------------------------------

The ranger awoke, he mind hazy and his head sore. Looking around the elf's heart broke at the sight of ash, and lifeless ground. He could still see the trees, grass, and all that was once green in his minds eye. He sat up in shocked silence until his companion whistled at him, causing silent tears of grief to fall down his cheeks. How long he sat there the ranger did not take note, but when he came to himself, he shook himself off and stood. Placing Scion on his shoulder the Tythle took hold of his emotions as best as he could.

The lack of sleep was getting to him, pain started growing in his mind telling him that he should rest, but he could not, not until he had found the others. Looking around his sharp eyes he picked up a couple darker shapes through the ash-ridden air. Since Tythle had no voice for shouting, he started whistling sharply and loudly hoping to catch the shadows attention.  

Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:12
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Randagaar Van Dorn
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« Reply #5 on: June 05, 2005, 05:28:22 AM »

Randagaar followed the path of the stag for some time, occasionally catching sight of the huge beast in the distance, where it almost seemed to wait and watch for the giant, at the crest of each new rise in the shallow dune like terrain.

Above, the sky remained heavy with clouds, which seemed to the northman to be yearning to let loose a torrent. Lightning crawled through the overcast, bringing shades of purple and blue and crimson to the clouds, as electricity raced from horizon to horizon, and creating a continuous growling rumble from overhead..

Before long it was quite apparent that full day had come. Yet the thick black cloud cover completely obscured the sun, so entirely in fact that it was no lighter than Caelereth at dusk. Except in the brief moments of stark brilliance that occurred when the occasional bolt from above could not be restrained by the clouds, and broke free to strike at the ground beneath. In those moments the landscape was ablaze with blue white light that accented the stark grayness of this colorless land, and also revealed to the giant what appeared to be a distant range of mountains which lay in the direction the stag had lead him.

Randagaar lost sight of the stag as it crested the next small rise and descended the other side but he pressed on, determined to keep up with the animal as long as it chose to play its game. “Is it a game you play, beast?” The giant thought out loud, “or do you have some other purpose? Are you benevolent or foul?”  The pace was taking a toll on the big man, and when he reached the top of the next rise he paused and scanned ahead for the stag. It was nowhere to be seen.

The wind was picking up quite steadily now,  and at the top of the rise the ash and dust were whipping violently about, burning the northman’s face and choking his throat. He brought the collar of his coat up over his face so he could breath deeply and catch his fill. Squinting ahead he watched as a storm of wind driven ash obliterated the tracks of the stag. He fixed his eye on a distant peak with the next lightning flash, then stumbled on in that direction.

A sense of despair began to creep upon he giant once again as he continued on with not a glimpse of the stag. He was alone again. In this wasteland. And soon his mind began to play tricks on him. He began to hear voices. Voices from all directions.

To his left, “Hello! Hey! Over here!”

And to his right, “Randagaar! Randagaar! Over here!”

The big man smirked sadly to himself, as he paused in his tracks and contemplated his waning sanity. “That one almost sounded like Morcaanan.”

“Thank the Gods,” came the voice from the left. “Hello there! Over here!”

And then again from the right, “You big fat giant, over here!!”

“Morcaanan?”  The giant whispered.


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/5/05 16:39
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Morcaanan
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« Reply #6 on: June 05, 2005, 02:15:22 PM »

"Jeharaid" muttered the mercenary as pain shot up his wounded leg, "you are very very stupid."

Still, he could see he had Randagaars attention, and that was worth it. Coughing and sputtering from the ash and dust in his mouth he stumbled in the giant's direction.

The strange ash that had gathered thick around his feet made the going a bit slow and very tiring, but not too long after he spotting the huge man he reached him, and sank to his knees next to Randagaar from pure exhaustion.

"What happened?" he gasped, hacking and choking as dust seemed almost to crawl into his mouth. "One moment I am on my horse, the next, the world turns inside out."

He looked around wildly when he heard the other voices. "Where are the others? Penrith, Manalkar, Tythle? Surely..." his voice trailed off as he considered the possibilites. He sat silent, gazing over the wastes, praying silently for answers, seeming almost to forget the big man towering over him at his side.

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Manik Targin
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« Reply #7 on: June 05, 2005, 03:12:22 PM »

As Manik gradually plodded his way through the winds and desert of ash, another figure separated from some dunes to approach the first. “Hel..*claclkc*!” choked Manik as he tried to call out again. “Hey!” He had to get their attention, he couldn’t lose them. He could almost cry with relief at finding people, he wouldn’t allow himself to lose them now. Covering his mouth to block the dust in between his yells, he continued towards the pair.

Once he was within a few peds, he held up his hands to show that he meant no harm, you never know considering his current circumstance. The two had been talking, but with the wind, Manik hadn’t been able to catch any of it. Walking closer, he looked them over through the dim light and coverings of ash. The first was huge, a giant of a man. The second was more of the normal size of a man, but looked a young boy standing beside the other. Both had weapons on their person, and by the way they carried themselves, Manik had a bet they knew how to use them. “Greetings! You wouldn’t hap-*hoeclaclk*….happen to know where we are would you?” asked Manik. It was very hard to speak without piles of ash forming on your tongue.

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Bahran the big
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« Reply #8 on: June 05, 2005, 03:20:22 PM »

Bahran had stayed in the bar quite late, sloshing down ale after ale. The matron of the bar, if she could be considered motherly at all, had gotten up to shoo him out several times, but he just wouldn't budge. The big man was rocking back and forth in his chair, back and forth. As he went back in the chair, precariously balancing it on the two back legs, he lost control. It seemed the ground was shaking. As his body hurtled toward the ground... it should have stopped, but it didn't.

The mammoth's eyes opened slowly, surveying his surroundings. He had a bird's eye view, quite literally. He was apparently caught on a branch by his shirt; where there was a branch in all of Caelereth that could support his prestigious girth he did not know. He looked about him, trees everywhere, as far as the eye could see. The ground was nowhere in sight, however.

Without warning, the trees began to drop down vertically, disappearing one by one. The big man was in a bit of shock, but this was insane. Trees continued to fall, until only the lone tree was left. Bahran once again surveyed his surroundings; below him: gray clouds fading into black nothingness; above him: absolute nothingness, pure white.

The branch broke. He fell. Falling down. It seemed it would never stop. It was going on for five minutes, ten minutes, thirty minutes, an hour, and then blackness. He couldn't tell if he was moving or not, there was no wind rushing past, no sensation at all. No sound anymore.

He yelled out, gibberish. Just trying to hear something; but there was nothing. He could have been laying down, but there was nothing touching him except the clothes on his back. He couldn't see a thing. He moved his hand to his face. Nothing.

He opened his eyes again as he heard the wind, or at least he thought that's what it was. He had heard nothing for what seemed like an eternity. He had seen nothing, not even his own hand. But now, this was something. He was falling.

The colossus hit the ash, sending bits flying everywhere. He was obscured by all the ash, it was beginning to fill his lungs as he gasped for air, the wind being knocked out of him as he hit the ground. He had felt nothing for so long, but now he felt something; pain.

_____________

Indifference will be the downfall of mankind, but who cares?

"It’s better to die whimpering like a little girl than trying to be a hero."
-Anonymous

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"Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication."
- Lord Byron
Randagaar Van Dorn
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« Reply #9 on: June 06, 2005, 07:54:22 AM »

The big man could scarcely believe his eyes as they confirmed that the figure hobbling toward him was indeed Jeharaid Morcaanan. As the swordsman arrived at Randagaar’s side, the giant caught hold of his arm when he began to collapse, and eased him to his knees. Morcaanan voiced all the questions that had been racing through the giant’s mind. Randagaar wished that he had answers. However he was at a complete loss to fathom a guess. Even in the wildest tales told around the fire by warriors and adventurers he had known, he had never heard of a place such as this. “I wish I knew...” Was all he could say.

Behind them came the approach of another. Calling out to them, and choking on the dust and ash, a warrior unknown to Randagaar. The northman threw open his coat and his hand went to Helm Splitter, but when he saw the stranger display his open hands, the lack of live steel allowed the giant to relax. As this other warrior came nearer Randagaar could see in his eyes the same questions burning within him that so troubled Morcaanan and himself.

“Randagaar Van Dorn,” the giant said to the new warrior, an Erpheronian by the look of him. In other times they might surely have crossed steel, but these were not other times and the northman did his best to smile as he helped brace his comrade Morcaanan who pulled himself to his feet.

The new comer had choked on his words when he tried to speak. The giant pulled his water skin from within the breast of his coat and shook it, regarding how little was left. It made a sloshing sound. He offered it to the stranger. “There is precious little left I am afraid. Not enough to make a difference. You may as well wash back the ash and spare your throat.”

Then the giant asked of them both, "Have either of you seen the stag? I was following a great stag"


Edited by: Randagaar Van Dorn at: 6/6/05 0:02
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Morcaanan
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« Reply #10 on: June 06, 2005, 08:45:22 AM »

Morcaanan pointed to the dust. "You mean another living creature besides us?" There were not many to see in the dusty landscape.

He glanced up at Rand. "It would be good to see some sign of animal life around here - it would be a small comfort at least" he said with some slight relief. He glanced up at the newcomer. "And whats your part in all this mess?"

Edited by: Morcaanan at: 6/6/05 13:26
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Your Neighborhood Friendly Dragonmaster
Manik Targin
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« Reply #11 on: June 07, 2005, 01:18:22 AM »

As the smaller one pulled himself to his feet, the big man introduced himself, and offered a water skin. Manik’s throat needed it, and accepted. After washing out his mouth and throat while trying to use as little of the precious water as possible, he handed back the skin.

"Have either of you seen the stag? I was following a great stag," questioned the giant.

Manik hadn’t seen a stag, and didn’t know how such a beast could survive in this land. Nor did he know how he would survive. Manik shrugged his shoulders with a little shake of his head to let …his name was …Randagaar… know he hadn’t seen the beast. Neither man had answered his question of where they were, but judging from the smaller man’s response, they were thinking the same thing.

"And whats your part in all this mess?"

Manik didn’t know what to say at first, and just stared for a second. ”My part?.... Well I guess my part is being caught in some kind of earthquake, sucked out of Nyermersys, and being cast into this far forsaken land,” replied Manik, finishing with another shrug. “How do you come to be here?”

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Randagaar Van Dorn
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« Reply #12 on: June 07, 2005, 02:48:22 AM »

The giant Van Dorn searched the ground for the tracks of the stag, a few were still discernible, but barely. Morcaanan’s eye was sharp to have spotted them. Their presence meant the beast might not be too far ahead.

“Nyermersys? But that is hundreds of strals north of where we were, near Santhala!” The giant said with surprise, as he took back his water skin from the stranger. That fact alone made a couple of things clear to the northman. Whatever had occurred had not been a localized event, it had been far reaching. All off Caelereth could easily have been effected. Whatever force had transported them could easily have brought others to this desolate plane of ash, possibly from anywhere on Caelereth.

Still many questions remained unanswered. Where they still somewhere on Caelereth? Some distant forsaken land across the sea. Had some force picked them up and deposited them here by random chance, or by diabolic design? Were they on some other world beyond the void? Were they even still alive? Was this the afterlife? Some limbo world between heaven and hell? Hell itself? The giant remembered the wound to his flank. It still ached, and Morcaanan’s leg, still injured. He doubted that one would still bare the wounds of battle in the hereafter, and that gave him a sense of uncertain optimism.

“We are still alive,” he said, almost as much to convince himself as to state a point of fact. Before passing the waterskin over to Morcaanan he squirted a jet of water into his mouth and swallowed. As the cool wettness revived his throat he knew he was alive. Still alive, “for now.”

“The stag I followed was headed in that direction. Unless it was swept here by the same force that brought us hence there must be a place where it gains food and water. As I see it our best hope is to follow on.” The Remusian turned and pointed. At the top of the next dune sat a rider.

It was hard to make out any details of his appearance at such a range, a hundred peds or more, through the veils of ash that danced in the gales of wind which swept across the face of the land. But distance would soon be of no matter for the rider reigned his mount toward the gathering and slowly trotted in their direction.


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Manik Targin
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« Reply #13 on: June 07, 2005, 05:29:22 AM »

Santhala?! Manik could feel the blood drain from his face. How could that be? Possibilities of what had happened raced through his mind. Manik felt his mind start to panic, but quickly grappled with it to bring it back under control. Whatever had happened had happened, now he just had to make the best of it.

“We are still alive,” stated the big man Randagaar, “for now.”

Manik stared at the giant; it was as if the man had been reading his thoughts. He took comfort at the man’s conclusion and strengthened his resolve. He listened attentively as the huge man offered a course of action. Follow where the stag was going, in hope that it would lead to food and water. Manik nodded his head, it was a good plan if they could follow the tracks, and he didn’t have a better one.

Noticing Randagaar staring into the wind, Manik followed his gaze. Through the current of ash, Manik could make out a rider coming towards them. He hoped the rider was friendly, these men had weapons, but he didn’t. He had lost his quarterstaff being pitched onto this wasteland.

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Tythle Fi thea
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« Reply #14 on: June 07, 2005, 11:36:22 AM »

Tythle was not get the shadows attentions, so with great weariness he jogged somewhat toward the growing shadow, or now shadows as he eyes perceived more than one. Risking loss of his voice he shouted, "Rand? are you there Northman." His voice thankfully came out loud and some what clearly out toward what he hoped was his comrades. The ash was like snow, blanketing the ranger and his bird, who tried to shake off the clinging material.

Edited by: Tythle Fi thea  at: 6/8/05 5:55
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