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Author Topic: SW IV- GW&H- Burned City of Voldar  (Read 351 times)
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Drea
Dangerous Doxy
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« on: December 20, 2014, 09:00:40 AM »

Dawns first light was just beginning to glow in the east when Jak pointed above the trees to the west to where the broken battlements of a large wall stood.  She didn't know why, but Drea could feel her heart beating faster.  She hadn't been to Voldar since the burning.

As they approached, the predawn light gave the city a surreal and ghostly quality.  This she saw when the four of them emerged from the tree line, which had been cut back 100 peds from the wall.  The intervening stretch of land was snow covered grassland.

"There.  That's where we go."

Drea followed Jak's outstretched arm to where he pointed, a cracked and crumbling section of wall.  The stone was blackened and melted.  A shiver went down her spine.

Jak began to move forward, but Drea leaned down and grabbed the reins to his horse.

"Wait.  How do we know it's safe?  The Horde occupies the city, no?"

Jak grinned his yellowed teeth smile.  "Oh, yes.  But, they stay further north, closer to the river where the bridge is.  This end of the city they mostly leave alone."

Drea swung her head around to face Gilith.  "Gil, we'll need you to ke4ep your eyes open.  I don't want to ride into a trap."
Logged

Drea's CD

Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
Gilith
Wandering Woodsmen
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« Reply #1 on: December 20, 2014, 10:34:25 PM »

Gilith nodded his head not a trace of emotion gracing his features. He thumbed his axe however, almost desiring to pull it out. For what reason he didn't know but he felt as if he was in the eye of a storm, both ahead of and behind him lay uncountable enemies each eager to take his head. Soon the calm would pass however, and waves of violence and terror would wash upon them. Where they were when this happened would be instrumental in their survival.

Gilith truth be told had already been scanning the area, he had said almost no words on their entire journey, too distracted by his surroundings and attempting to discern what was in them. But now he took a glance towards Reynard, and pulling off his pack he fumbled around in it for a moment before pulling out a long very used but masterfully crafted blade. It was in a scabbard that had no right to hold a sword of such quality, it seemed almost a mockery to place it inside of it. But alas that was all he could afford these days.

Handing it to him with hardly a second thought Gilith launched in to an explanation of the blade.

"You seem a bit under armed for these times Reynard. This is an older sword but it's good as new. Forged by dwarves, Urav Korvat is it's name I think. Not really sure.. I'm not entirely sure how my family came by this but it doesn't really matter. It will will serve you well these days. No need to give it back either, don't much have a use for it anymore."

Gilith would not say another word on the matter, he only trudged his horse forward, keeping a constant lookout on the surroundings, once more entering in to his own silent world. A world that consisted of heartbeats that sounded like thunder, and where the whispering of the faintest wind blew like a hurricane across him. It was lonely world, but a safe one.
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
Drea
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« Reply #2 on: December 27, 2014, 12:07:37 AM »

Reynard took the proffered sword from Gilith and admired it.  It felt well balanced in his hand.  It would make a fine replacement to the sword he had lost.

"Thank you, my friend.  It is a fine weapon, and I am honoured to carry it."  He turned it over a few times in his hand to get the feel of it before sheathing it.

When Drea began following Jak across the crust of snow, he followed along, his eyes traveling both directions of the wall.  He did not spot any movement.  Reynard wasn't sure if this made him feel better or not.  No movement and no sound from the city was eerie at best.

He looked to Drea.  "I'll go on ahead, see if it's safe."  He turned his head to Gilith.  "Gil?" he invited.

"You both be careful."

« Last Edit: December 27, 2014, 01:18:32 AM by Drea » Logged

Drea's CD

Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
Gilith
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« Reply #3 on: December 29, 2014, 10:25:39 AM »

Gilith raised his hand towards the tarnished knight. Inviting him forward if he wished to come. His words came as an expected disturbance to his constant surveillance of the surroundings. He knew that his friends would not keep nearly as quite as he himself would, and he was fine with that. He had become used to it by now, and besides, that was why he was useful in situations like this. If everything was dead quiet anyone could scout like he did. It took skill to sort through the muddled noises of friend and foe and determine in only moments what needed to be reacted to, and what was just harmless sound.

The ranger would his head down in the hood of his cloak seemingly at ease in his saddle. Though truthfully he was quite tense, he was always tense though. How he hated that, he could deal with the paranoia., scanning and looking and double checking, and he could deal with the lack of sleep the sneaking around, huddling in to a cold dark hole for hours on end. But curse it all his muscles got sore!

Gilith rubbed his poisoned hand with the other, having forgotten about the venom seeping through his veins. He knew that Claudirea's antidote must have worked, he would be dead by now if it hadn't. But how would this affect him otherwise? Would it slow him down, make him weaker, perhaps drain his strength and sap him of all his power? He did not know and he prayed it would do none of those unpleasant things.

Gilith maintaining his constant scan of the surroundings couldn't help but feel a bit elated that Drea had come with him. He knew she would have been better off staying behind keeping out of trouble but still, with her he felt like he could overcome any odds. When he thought he had to separate from her he wasn't quite sure how he would cope with that.
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
Claudirea
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« Reply #4 on: December 30, 2014, 12:41:17 AM »



Luna

Luna had been following Drea and Gilith, going off now and then to get food for herself. She didn't quite know what to think about the smelly one, but the other one had a familiar scent to him. A few times she would whimper nervously, thinking of Claudirea. Never before had they been separated this long, and the she-wolf was worried for her human companion.

Now that they were in the ruined city she once lived, she was even more anxious. She sniffed the air, not comforted by what she smelled. Whimpering, she walked back and forth, looking at the walls.

The familiar scented one and Gilith were starting to leave. Luna gave a soft bark as if encouraging them, then walked back to where Drea was. Making a small circle around the woman's feet, the she-wolf briefly pressed her nose against her hand, motioning that she was going to stay with the she-human. A glance and low growl towards the Smelly One warned him that she was not above attacking him if he should prove a threat.
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Drea
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« Reply #5 on: January 11, 2015, 07:45:13 PM »

Slowly and cautiously, Reynard urged his horse forward, crossing the clearing between the woods and the burned walls of Voldar.  He kept on the lookout for Horde soldiers, but none appeared on the walls.  It seemed he did not breathe until he and Gilith had reached the wall.

Climbing down off his mount, he peered through the broken wall.  Within, the city appeared devoid of life.  Burned out shells of homes and buildings, covered in snow made it look like there had not been people living here for a thousand years.  It sent a shiver up his spine.

Stepping through the wall, he placed a hand on the stone, then drew it back quickly.  He studied the stone more closely.  It appeared melted, and to the touch it felt more like glass; smooth and cold.  Nothing here was natural.

"I have a bad feeling, Gil."

Logged

Drea's CD

Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
Gilith
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« Reply #6 on: January 16, 2015, 01:52:18 AM »

Gilith stared slightly terrified at the smooth almost glass like stone before him. He remembered only seeing something like this one other time in his life. That had been when he was about 23, and he had been hired to defend a small keep during a siege. A flaming projectile launched from their catapults crashed into the stone mortar next to him. He had been lucky not have been struck  by the blasted thing, and when he went the next morning to his same post the crater in the wall where the stone had struck looked much like the material before him.

Gilith got off his horse and started to kneel down near the destroyed ruins. Inspecting things closely, most especially looking at the ground before him. After a moment he began to mutter to himself as he followed a path only seen by him. He set his feet down very carefully and deliberately with every step. He seemed to be re-enacting the last moments of an individual struck by extreme terror. He looked up towards the top of the building, followed the foot prints and stared at a pile of broken timbers before him. They were burnt, and as Gilith started to shift them as gingerly as he could he pulled out from the beneath them a burnt and torn article of clothing, and a blackened finger bone.

“The attacks came from above…this person ran from it, but he seemed to be distracted. He was looking up while he ran. His clothes had caught fire, and he dove to the ground to put them out. That was when these timbers fell on him, crushing him to death. His body was consumed by the flames, but there must have been rain soon afterword’s, this wood is only partially burnt. Or someone put them out. I cannot be certain.

Tell me Reynard, what do you believe caused this? What do you think, could have caused this? ”


Gilith set the finger bone down almost as quickly as he picked it up and left the clothing there as well, after this he mounted his horse once more and immediately began to scan the other. He did not trust this place and felt physically ill as he dwelt here, he fingered his axe and prayed that whatever had caused this had long since left this place. Especially if his suspicions were right.
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
Drea
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #7 on: February 01, 2015, 11:08:56 AM »

"It is said dragons filled the skies above Voldar.  It is said that one could see the fires burning from a thousand strals away."  Reynard faced Gil.  "I'm not sure if I truly believed the stories until now."  He again ran his fingers over the stone.  "No normal fire caused this."

His attention was turned to Drea and Dirty Jak crossing the open area, her hands holding the reins to Jak's horse.  When they were close enough, Reynard caught her eye.  "I don't see signs of life.  For all I know, it might be deserted."

Jak giggled.  "Deserted?  No.  Horde are here, but so are survivors.  And you know how one survives?  One hides, oh yes.  One stays inside during the day."

Reynard nodded to Drea.  "He's probably right, Drea.  We should find shelter and get in out of the cold."

Drea looked to Gil   "I trust you, Gil.  Find us someplace safe."
Logged

Drea's CD

Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
Gilith
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« Reply #8 on: February 20, 2015, 07:25:03 AM »

Gilith nodded his head and waisted no time as he motioned for the party behind him to follow his steps. He cursed the crystal white snow behind him for it's obvious trails but hopefully he would be able to do something about that as he lead his friends, and enemies even to safety. There seemed to be a perfect place for hiding in Gilith's mind, and that was the cellar that the burnt man had attempted to flee into before the dragon got to him. He wasn't sure what lay down there, be it monsters or men but he knew that it was there best bet.

Thumbing his axe he led them to the destroyed ruins of the house, and began to shift through the derbies. He eventually took his axe out of his holster and used it to pry a few pieces of wood out of the way. Finally after searching through a few inches of the destruction below him he found it. He motioned his head towards Reynard and then downward at the door, he was strong but he needed help with this.

Reynard jumping off his horse for a moment came beside Gil and they both at the same time began to lift the large wooden panel which Gilith had discovered. There was just enough room in it to wiggle ones fingers underneath it. As they unveiled there was a dark pit before them, it smelled of old wood, stone, and even wine. Not the worst place to hide Gilith mused to himself. Though the horrendous creaking and groaning of the entire process sent shivers down Gilith's spine he managed to quell his desire to look hurriedly about and pull out his bow. Instead he spoke quietly to his friends. And Jack.

"Quickly, into the cellar. You first Jack. Drea, keep and Reynard, keep your blades out and make sure this buffoon doesn't make to much noise. I'm going to let the horses loose, we haven't a choice if we want to hide here. Take what you need from them and then enter. Do not come out for any reason until at least a day has passed. If I do not happen to return forget about me."

Gilith waited for their entrance into the dark cellar below him. He would lay the floor down where it was and cover it up with derbies once more after they were in. Then he would take care of their horses and their tracks.
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
Drea
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Human, Erpheronian


« Reply #9 on: March 08, 2015, 08:29:46 AM »

Drea followed Jak and Reynard brought up the rear as they followed Gil's instructions and headed down into the cellar.  It was dark as pitch down there at first, but a moment later, Drea heard the scraping of metal on flint and soon Reynard produced a small makeshift torch.

In the dim light, Drea could see that the cellar was in poor shape, as the upper floors had caved in many places.  Snow was found here in there in small piles.  She cupped her hands in front of her face and blew into them, trying to warm her fingers.

"Not much to call home."

Drea nodded in agreement with Reynard's observation.  "At least we're hidden.  I don't relish the idea of having to try to avoid the Horde here in this city.  The whole place feels.... haunted."

Reytnard smiled good naturedly.  "Don't tell me you believe in ghosts.  I wouldn't have thought that of you."

"Aye, there be spirits.  Bad mostly.  And many in this city, oh yes."  Jak had a worried expression on his face.  It was obvious he didn't want to be here in the cellar.

Drea shook her head, "No, I don't believe in ghosts.  But, I do believe in evil, and it feels close."

Jak shook his head.  "There are ghosts, I've seen them, I have."  He looked toward the back of the cellar and wrinkled his nose.  "Places like this, that be where you find 'em."

Drea caught the same scent that Jak had noticed.  It was a strong smell of decay and rot.  She covered her nose with her hand.  "What is that?"

Jak scowled.  "Somethin' dead is down here."

"Something alive as well," Reynard remarked as he held his sword steady and stepped ahead of Jak and Drea.  "Who's there?" he called into the dark far recess of the cellar.

Drea placed a hand on Luna's head when the wolf began to growl deeply.
« Last Edit: March 08, 2015, 08:40:10 AM by Drea » Logged

Drea's CD

Honour is within you, and cannot be taken away by others.  Neither highborn Knights with hollow souls, or gossiping harpies can break your spirit unless you let them.- Drea
Geirnils Kreiskin
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« Reply #10 on: March 08, 2015, 10:16:24 AM »

Geirnils Kreiskin, professional con artist and self-proclaimed treasure hunter extraordinaire, was not happy. After seeing one of his friends and companions burned alive in front of him as he tried to follow  him into the cellar and seeing the other one die by disease but four days later, Geirnils wished for the sound of human voices above just about anything else, with the possible exception of a few canteens filled with water, as his provisions were beginning to run quite thin. To conserve resources, he'd only been eating a half a meal every day, and even then the time until he died of starvation was ticking down at an alarming rate. To make it all worse, the only protection he had against the cold was a tattered black cloak.

Thus, when he heard a group of strangers wander into the cellar, he was most pleased. He heard them speaking of spirits, and thought that if he was to control these people, it would be through fear and superstition. As he was pondering how he should proceed, he heard a wolf growl and one of the people say, "Something alive as well. Who's there?"

 He decided that if he was to act, it must be now. "Hee hee..." Geirnils cackled, though he was more than a little bit hoarse. He paused a moment for dramatic effect before continuing, "Welcome, my dear, dear friends... oh how we have missed the touch of living flesh... yes, we have missed it..."

As Geirnils spoke these words, it suddenly dawned on him that he could be having the opposite of his intended effect. Still, he supposed it couldn't be helped now, and besides, these didn't seem like the kind of people to be scared by a little talk. He quickly donned the cloak, pulled up the hood, and began to move towards the voices, limping a little on account of a total lack of energy. As he moved into the dimly lit area in front of the party, he raised his head to lock eyes with one of the visitors, widened his eyes and forced his gait to be even more staggered than before, to achieve the "rugged, though slightly deranged" look.

"It seems Lady Queprur doesn't wish our companionship as of yet," he said, before kissing his finger, kneeling, and pressing it to the ground and nodding solemnly. He stayed in that position, waiting for a response from the group, and praying the wolf didn't catch on. (He believed that often, tamed animals were smarter than their supposed masters, and only used them for easy food.)
« Last Edit: March 09, 2015, 07:25:03 AM by Geirnils Kreiskin » Logged

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"Those who are with me have already heard my words, and those who aren't don't deserve them."- Geirnils
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