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Post by Gerhardt of Nuro on Jan 3, 2010 19:22:43 GMT -8
It was snowing outside. Only the moon was strong enough to give off light, shining through the clouds as though God himself willed it. The stars were drowned. Mist clung to the area as though the world could not exist without it. Wolves were howling. There was something ephemeral about the night, like it was ripped out of a story and placed there just for the festival. It was surreal. And it made the hair on the back of Gerhardt’s back rise much easier than the biting cold could ever dream of doing on its own. Somewhere, the fae were out.
Ger cared very little for the festival. Mostly, he was there on business. A contact of his lived in Sheepsbury. The festival was only a thing of convenience. He did dress for the occasion, however. His white cloak was trimmed in the fur of a gray wolf, as were his black boots. He wore his hood up so that the blend of gray, black, white, brown, and russet fur framed his surprisingly bronzed face. His long red hair was tied back. Ger looked…elegant. This was not entirely unusual, though his tan tunic was a bit more fancy than his usual attire what with the shimmery gold trim.
He stood separated from the others. Ger was not a people person. Crowds made him uncomfortable. Instead, he stood near the outside of the cliffs that sheltered the fire and the mortals who celebrated there. The wind tugged at his cloak and the long strands of his tied hair so that both waves dramatically in the wind. The wolves howled their defiance into the night and Ger could not help but smile as he listened to the humans inside howl their own form of defiance. As if this little dance could possibly keep the hunger out of the wolves’ belly!
A noise from behind him made him turn around in a whirl of swirling fabric. A cup clattered across the floor, spilling some sort of red juice all over. At least, Ger assumed it was juice. It was being carried by a fairly young boy. This boy was now on the floor crying over the blood. Other children gave him funny looks, like crying was weird. Ger only smiled at the boy and helped him up. Then he knelt down and pulled a copper from the child’s ear. The child laughed and wiped tears from his eyes as he gladly accepted the offered coin.
“There now, you’re okay.” Ger told the kid. He sniffled, but nodded his head. Ger decided to get his head away from the fall, so he picked the kid up and moved over by the fire. “Excited for the dance?” A lot of kids seemed to like that part. He understood. The lights, the movements. It was its own form of magic. The boy nodded. “Who’s performing this year anyway?”
The boy screwed his face up in deep concentration. “Umm…Missus Edwena said it was someone called Illyr.” Ger could tell by the boy’s face the name meant nothing to him.
“Well, I am sure Illyr will do a breathtaking job.” The boy nodded enthusiastically. Ger could care less who Illyr was or how well the dance went. He did hope the kid was happy, though. “What’s your name, kid?”
“I’m called Valen!” The kid said proudly, as though the name were famous somehow. “What’s your name, Sir?”
“My name isn’t important,” Ger replied. Then to distract him from the question, he asked, “Would you like to see some more magic?” The child practically shrieked his yes. Well then.
Ger spent the next few hours performing magic tricks for children and ignoring everyone else. It had only taken a few minutes for a fairly large gathering of children were around him, watching. He even taught them how to pull a coin out of another’s ear, explaining the theory of misdirection. The children picked up on this with surprising acuity, much more than most children. Then again, the children of Sheepsbury were a breed unto their own. If he hadn’t been taught by the best gypsy magicians, Ger doubted he would have been able to fool them at all. Sharp kids.
Unfortunately, children grew up. Although Ger had a smidgeon of compassion for the residence of Sheepsbury, that was not enough to protect him. Children were his weakness. The grown up version? Not so much. Ger was a class one sociopath when it came to anyone his own age. That was why he would rather observe the party than partake. When the children finally ran off to dig into the food, Ger was content to sit there alone, gazing into the fire while everyone else danced. The crackle of energy was impossible to ignore. Very soon it would be time for the Honored Dance.
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Post by Tobias Lysand on Jan 4, 2010 12:47:11 GMT -8
Tobias stared out at the snow, glimmering in the moonlight as it swirled down, making little patterns as it went. It was so strange, how such tiny flakes could somehow form to make a blanket of white that would cover everything that the eyes could see.
His eyes were wide with child-like wonder. He always loved the snow, but as a child was not allowed to play in it very often; he was always a bit frail, and his master Aradath had always feared that illness that he could catch from being out in the cold would be fatal. It was hard to restrain himself, to keep from running outside and swirling around, his arms out stretched and his face upturned, allowing the cold flakes to land on his face. Oh how he longed to dance in the snow, his robes getting lost within the white splendor. To disappear into the white flurry...
A sigh escaped his lips, and he was forced back into reality by the sound of howling behind him. He looked down to his hand, realizing that the chocolate he had in his hand was slowly melting, its white sticky mass beginning to flow down his hand. "Oh..." How long had he been staring out that window? Far too long it seemed. Well, no matter. Melted chocolate was still just as good as its un-melted form. Better even. He finished gobbling down what was still solid before licking his hand clean, wiping it on his robes.
"I hope you're not making yourself sick with all that."
Tobias' face lit up at the sound of the familiar voice. He turned around, grinning as he found his master standing before him. He placed his palm over his fist, bowing as he gave Aradath the customary greeting of light mages in the language of the light. "The light shines upon you, master."
Aradath bowed back, replying. "As it shines upon us all." He smiled. "It is wonderful to see you again, Tobias."
Done with the formalities, Tobias stepped forward, throwing his arms around his master, who embraced him back before stepping back, his hands on his shoulders. "How long has it been?" The young mage asked. "Two weeks since we saw each other last?"
"About that, yes," Aradath confirmed with a nod of his head. Smiling, he tussled his messy brown hair. "You act as if that is such a long time."
"I am still not used to it," Tobias answered with a sheepish grin. "Living alone that is. It... is different."
"How is your independent training going?" the elder mage asked curiously, stepping back, feeling the eyes of other Mortals in the room. He knew that the closeness he and his apprentice shared was not an accepted bond between two mortals.
"Ah... It goes well, I think... Well... It's hard to focus without you to direct me," he admitted. "I often find myself drifting from one topic to the other frequently without really learning much of either. I have been doing much research as of late, but I've been working on casting as well... I think I've nearly gotten mirror image down... Here, let me show you..." He stepped back, eyes narrowing slightly as he concentrated. The end of his staff began glowing as magic was summoned, but instead of mirror images of himself being cast, light burst from his staff, swirling in strange patterns before it faded away, much to the delight of surrounding children.
Aradath smiled at him. "You'll get it eventually, Tobias. Don't worry. It just takes some time." Noting the boy still had a frustrated look about him, he put a hand on his shoulder. "Here, let us get some more chocolate, hmmm?"
Tobias grinned at him. "White chocolate?"
"Of course, would you really expect any other kind?" He lead the young man over to a chocolate vendor.
"Hmm? Back for more, are we?" the vendor asked with a grin. He had been making a killing off of the young mage, who as of now, had bought more white chocolate than anyone he had ever seen. The boy had practically doubled his business on his own. It was a wonder the boy was so small and thin...
Aradath sighed as he bought a large hunk of chocolate, breaking off a small piece for himself before handing the rest off to the young man. "You're going to be sick tonight, Tobias. This always happens at the festivals..."
"Thank you, Ebrithil!" he exclaimed, almost inhaling it down right there and and then. "I won't be sick, I promise!"
"You always say that too." Shaking his head in amusement, he stood back from the crowd, observing the dancers.
Tobias watched them a few moments before he found his attention drawn toward a flash of white that he saw from the corner of the eye. He turned toward it, seeing a crowd of children surrounding him. A man performing magic? After the children left, he made his way toward him, catching sight of the white cloak. He made to bow, "The light shines..." He trailed off, catching his mistake as he saw the man more closely. He was no light mage, he realized. "O-oh, I'm sorry," he stammered. "I thought for a moment that you were... Erm..." How many times had his master told him that a white robes didn't automatically equal a light mage? "I am Tobias, Mage of the Light. May, I... May I ask who you are?"
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Gavin
New Member
Corrupter of Innocence
This avatar beats yours.
Posts: 15
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Post by Gavin on Jan 4, 2010 15:47:20 GMT -8
Sheepsbury was crowded, in the ceerfully uncomfortable sort of way. The snow hadn't stopped people from coming, it couldn't keep anyone away from the Wolf festival. Luckily enough, there was all sorts of wool clothing available for those unprepared for the climate in Sheepsbury. It was, after all, a bit north of the rest of Illinor. It wasn't like the mountains or anything, but still.
The practical Sheepsbury natives were drawn out into the snow just as easily as everyone else. Who wouldn't want to participate in the festivities? Families were taking the time to come back together and enjoy the holiday, snow or no snow. Assassins or no assassins - Gavin's family was no exception.
In fact, the huddled mass of gray cloaks standing next to Gareth's barn, off to the side of the festivities, held a good portion of Gavin's family. Most of them were already fairly well into the traditional drinking that went along with just about all of their holidays. Branwen and Seren had found some cowbells and buckets to make a racket with, and every time a wolf was brave enough to howl it got a noisy reply from the family. None of them had started singing yet, but the night was young. There was still time for them to all start making idiots of themselves.
Gavin was busy telling the kids about the Capital city, and they were listening just as they always did. Assisi was saying she was too old for this sort of thing, but still listening, and Enda was going on about how he should be allowed to go with his brother to the city even though Enna would have thrown a fit and neither of them was old enough anyways. Of course, the whole lot of them would catch on every time Gavin started making things up, as if they had actually been there. Apparently they didn't believe that the buildings there were hundreds of stories high, or that King Blakely was eight feet tall. (And nine feet wide, to boot! He could afford to eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted!) Eventually they ran off to join some friends in watching some magician or other, leaving Enda who would follow his brother to the end of the earth so long as Enna wasn't dragging him along behind her.
It was nice to be home, to see everyone again. If he hadn't already been halfway through the forest, Gavin probably wouldn't have made the treck at all. It was worth it just for the looks on everyone's faces when he showed up in the middle of town skipping like an idiot in a field of daisies. But honestly, he needed a break. So much noise after all that quiet alone time, it was a bit shocking.
"Listen, I'm going to run off and fetch another round before they run out. Don't anyone wait up for me, now!" He dashed off as another wolf prompted the drumming, howling racket of family fun. As always, Enda trailed along behind him. They pushed on through the crowd, swerving around other cheerful participants, eventually stumbling into a stall selling ale.
As Gavin found the coins to pay for the next round, Enna caught up with her twin, nearly dragging him away to see the magician from earlier. Laughing at the pair, Gavin followed along just for the sake of meeting this so-called mage, careful not to spill anything. His magic tricks sounded like sleight of hand more than real magic.
Looked like the party was over. Enna seemed a bit disappointed, blaming Enda for making her miss the show. "-and he was teaching us how to do it, too!" Enda cowered, Enna was one of the only people who could make him admit that he was still a coward.
"Excuse my bratty little sister, she's been eating a lot of sweets today." Gavin dragged her back a few steps, to make sure she wasn't getting in the way. "You're both magicians, are you?" The one with the staff looked almost official, but the other one... not so much.
"No no, not that one!" Enna pointed out the more magic-looking of the two, the one with the staff, as being the fake. "Him! He's the one who did the magic show! Just him!"
"Oh really now?" Gavin cast a skeptical look at him. Magic tricks?
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Post by Tobias Lysand on Jan 5, 2010 13:48:59 GMT -8
"E-Eh?" Tobias jumped, surprised by the arrival of the other two. He turned, staring at them for a few moments, blinking. "Magician?" Aradath had always taught him to look down on those calling themselves magicians. Fakes and charlatans that lot was. Using sleights of hand and calling it "magic." A real 'magician' called themselves mages, wizards, or even sorcerers and shaman.
Then there was the girl. Did she really just say that he wasn't a magic user? How rude! What did she think he was wearing the robes for? He sure didn't LIKE tripping over the things.
His crystal flickered and flared up as it reacted to his emotions. Shooting a sharp glance toward it, he forced it to calm down. He turned his attention to the man beside him for a moment, wondering if he was a mere fake or not before answering the man's question.
"I am no magician, if you mean one of those charlatans who think that making things disappear from beneath handkerchiefs is real magic," he said rather stiffly. "But I am a wielder of magic. Light magic to be exact. I am a mage. Tobias Lysand, mage of the light. And who might you be?"
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Post by Gerhardt of Nuro on Jan 6, 2010 12:44:51 GMT -8
“The light shines…”
Oh no. Ger’s dark eyes calmly looked up into the eyes of the speaker. A light mage. How quaint. Such an annoying breed of mage with such bright airs about them. Ger wandered how he could ever be mistaken for one, even with his bright robes. It mattered now. Ger did not mind being mistaken for something he was not. It was advantageous to him that way. Ger considered many responses to the mage, but he was saved having to choose when his attention was captured by bickering children. He smiled. Ger’s love for children was probably his most invaluable disguise.
The words spoken by the adults hardly registered in his mind as he pulled out a coin and performed some more sleight of hand for the upset child. It was the word ‘charlatan’ that brought him back to their conversation. He tossed the copper to the girl and looked up at Tobias with a raised eyebrow. “Careful how you use your words, Sir Mage. A charlatan knows full well what magic is and magic isn’t. They count on their audience to be the easily fooled idiots.” He stood and gave each of them a respectful nod.
“I am Gerhardt of Nuro, mage of the sky and master of sleight of hand.” Oh yeah, and don’t forget to add in bounty hunter and sociopath. Ger gave himself a mental smile. No one here needed to know that. His eyes took in the others with expert acuity. Tobias was easy to read. He was one of those uppity types, foolish and close-minded. Arrogant when it came to the things he believed he knew. Still young, though. That may save him. The other man was a bit more difficult. That scar going across his nose was nasty. Farming accident?
It was possible. So was the alternative. And the two kids…Were they his? Or were they relatives? Assassin or farmer? It was the same game he played with all of those in Sheepsbury. He didn’t have the right muscles or the tan for a farmer. It was such a subtle difference. The assassins were strong and tanned, too. Sometimes Ger wandered if he was just seeing things, marking everyone in that town as ‘assassin.’ And why not? It was better to be safe than sorry. Assassin it was, then. Guilty until proven innocent. That was how the law worked and that was how his father worked.
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Post by Rosalind Tarana on Jan 7, 2010 18:18:00 GMT -8
She was torn. On the one hand the music swelled over her, over them all, sweet and sensuous to her highly attuned ears. Firelight danced, flames caught in the wildness of the celebration, as hungry and dangerous as the wolves. It cast flickering shadows over the frozen mortal, turning her olive skin to molten gold, catching her in it's angry celebration. And the slowly swaying forms of dancing people called to her gypsy heart to join in, lose herself in animalistic delight as they performed to frighten off the wolves that hunted Illinor.
But on the other continuous distractions. She froze after every longing step, the faces of the dead looming out of the darkness with silents calls for help. She had forgotten, before coming here, the Sheepsbury was a town of assassins. What those cold, gruff men and confident, silent women couldn't know was that their victims trailed with them for the rest of their lives, unseen and unheard. Except by her.
Eventually she shook them off, those desperate dead faces that stared at her knowing she could see. She was a gypsy as well as a shaman and already her family spun and weaved among the revellers. Her mother and father, embracing in flickering firelight. Her young brother, capering on the fringe of the dancing.
She closed her eyes and lost herself in the magic. Gentle, silent spirits spun with her as she dipped and flitted through the mingling forms, her scarlet skirt catching the wind the fire created and fluttering like a crimson birds wing. Her gold, gypsy gold, glowed. Few danced so eloquently and beautifully as a gypsy girl drenched in heady expectation, a crescendo of howling wolves directing her instinctive steps. [/font][/color]
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Illyr Norec
New Member
You're insane if you think you'll beat it.
Posts: 146
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Post by Illyr Norec on Jan 9, 2010 8:24:17 GMT -8
Illyr smelled cooking fish and friend foods on the wind. Pushing her hood back, she moved her way toward the sounds. It had woken her up, the Festival. She had been travelling for the Festival. It was hardly likely that they wanted a quick chat. Wasn''t that...rumor still going around? She shivered against the harsh wind, coming to shaks of thrown-together wood selling everything from fried sweets and candies, to golden mugs of steaming liquid. She moved toward a familiar face int eh crowd, tugging on his shoulder. The man turned, a smile frozen on his face. "Ah, Illyr. Good to see you decided to get up and join us. Now, would you care for a dance? I met a nice young man by the name of Reatcher not long ago. He fawned at the thought of you." The man chuckled, as if to himself. Illyr scowled, her jaw set. "You never told me they were holding the Festival here." She snarled, the bag at her side flapping in the wind. "Relax, darling. Maybe we could find you a husband while we're here. The man seemed nice enough, and he's from Illinor." THe man was smiling from ear-to-ear. "Master Penhallow, we know nothing of this man. How could you propose I marry him?" She paused, her eyes level with his tipsy gaze. "You're drunk." She hissed, stalking away. Penhallow called after her, but soon his voice was lost in the crowd. She ignored him anyway, her steps taking her toward a large bar-like hut. She stepped inside, welcoming the warmth. A man immediately came up to her, his face handsome...But it held some sort of wrong-ness. Like he was... "Ah, you must be Lady Illyr. Penhallow told me of your prescence. It's a pleasure," He knelt, kissing her hand, "To meet you." His smile was radiant, like shining diamons int eh lantern-light. He led the shocked Illyr toward a table, sat her down gently, and took his own seat. "Ah, Master Reatcher. You are here with a Lady, huh?" A large woman with a burly accent approached. She appeared to be a fighting type of person. She could tell fromt he numerous swords and knives lining her belt. "Yes, Svenka. This is the Lady Illyr. She's from the Northern Ice." /How do you know so much about me?/ She thought curiously, sliding a thin dagger into her bag. It had been rolled in her boot, but now seemed like a much more important time to have it. "Ack, a Northern'r? Aye, she be a pretty gerl. I say ye did well, Reatch'r." Svenka clapped him on the back as she walked away. Reatcher leaned forward, his hand sliding over hers. Illyr pulled it away, distaste plastered ont he fine features. "You might want to tell me why you have taken an interest in me." She hissed, blue eyes narrowed. The man stiffened, like he had been doused with cold water. "Why, how about we go for a short walk and I tell you?" He got up from his seat, dragging Illyr by the hand out the door.
The moon was bright, lighting her hair to a silvery-blue. Reatcher was dragging her toward a small cropping of trees, his grip tight on her arms. He paused once they were hidden, turning to stare at her. She gasped. In the moonlight, he looked a lot less...Human. Fangs had slid fromt heir sheaths, his eyes slits. "Damnit," She hissed, turnign to run. He caught her by the arm and she screamed. He wrenched her around, throwing her against a drift of snow. The wind knocked out of her, she struggled to raise herself to her elbows. He was standing over her, his face grim. He smiled, the light not reaching his eyes. "You foolish girl. Penhallow had been dead for an hour. I re-animated him. Looks like it will do you for the worse." He kicked her side, and she cried out in pain. Gasping for air, she slid to her knees, the dagger flashing in her hand. "Stupid Creatures of the Night. How dare you." She hissed, slicing out at his chest. Blood spurted her face, and Reatcher's hands flew at her, clawing her face, forcing her head back- She screamed, the sound, loud and piercing, split the night sky. Reatcher flinched, smacking the back of her neck. Dazed, she could see Reatcher hastily looking around. People had turned to face them. But they were unseen...Was she going to die? Reatcher smirked, bringing his head down for his lips to brush her neck. He hissed, his fangs brushing the napes of her neck- Noise brust to her lips, a great screaming filled with anger and sadness. Reatcher's fangs pressed into her skin, and she was dazed once more. Lost in the effect of the endorfins.
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Gavin
New Member
Corrupter of Innocence
This avatar beats yours.
Posts: 15
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Post by Gavin on Jan 11, 2010 15:55:59 GMT -8
Sleight of hand was interesting and all, but hadn't Gavin heard the name Gerhardt before? Oh well, it was probably nothing. Less than nothing, even. Maybe the man had come along and done a magic show before or something. He kept note of the name in the back of his head, but didn't expect to actually use it. "That's an interesting profession, stage magic. I'm sure you've had audiences in the city? I suppose they would pay more for a show like that in the city." The mention of Illinor's capital caught Enda's attention. "Are they both from the city? Illinor city?" Oh, so there was the boy who still wanted to believe in the hundred-story-tall buildings. "My brother's been-" Oh! Not that! Gavin interrupted, discreetly pinching Enda's arm. "I've been saving some money to move to the city. I hear there's a good amount of work there. Supposedly it's a better life than living out here in the country could ever give me, you know?" Hand't Enda been told a thousand times to never talk about where any of the grown-ups went? Outsiders weren't supposed to know any of it, just in case. Enna, the little know it all, kicked her brother in the shins. "Are there really Shifters in the city? Do they turn into animals all the time in the streets? For real?" Good girl, not giving away the secret. Maybe a bit of a bratty terror to her brother, though. Gavin hadn't quite elaborated on the Shifters. It wasn't such a wonderful thing to try to explain that Shifters were often beat by drunks in the street just because, or that most people plain didn't like them. Best not explain how hard it was for Shifters to find jobs or houses, either. Gavin tried his best to look curious about it, too. "I'd hate to look like an uninformed farmer, but I've got the same question. There are always those rumors about shifters living in the city. We've heard that the King hires them as part of his guard, even. I mean, you know, if you're actually from the city and all."
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Post by Tobias Lysand on Jan 12, 2010 11:50:45 GMT -8
Tobias clicked his tongue slightly, turning to regard his fellow mage. "It is not uncommon for a charlatan to become so caught up in his own show that he begins to delude himself into believing it's real. I have seen it happen many times." Well, that was a tiny lie. He had seen it happen twice. It was his master, Aradath, who had seen it happen many times. "And even so... To prey on those too naive to know better... Isn't that a terrible thing?" Being so naive himself, the mage felt a certain pity for those who were swindled. "Oh sure, for harmless 'magic' shows I suppose it's alright, but how any of those 'magicians' also have a little side business? Too many I'm sure." He was silent for a few moments before he blinked, hurrying to fix his gaffe. "Now, I'm not saying that you would do such a disreputable thing, I just know that such fake magic could lead to such things. Yes, that..." He quickly turned to Gavin, forcing himself to calm down. He needed to think before he spoke... "Yes, the city. That's where I'm from. The shifters?" He paused to consider. "They can change form, yes, but I've yet to see one do so in the middle of the streets. When not in animal form, it's a bit difficult to tell them apart from you and I." What else could he tell them? He could lecture them on technicalities, on the different species of Shifter. He had once studied them in great detail, even down to how the magic flowed through their bodies during a shift, but he doubted that they wanted to hear that much.
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Illyr Norec
New Member
You're insane if you think you'll beat it.
Posts: 146
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Post by Illyr Norec on Jan 12, 2010 12:36:45 GMT -8
ooc// PEOPLE ARE IGNORING HERR D: Ouch, Illyr you're doomed to be drained. Utterly doomed.
Illyr: -dies fantastical death- Happy? Me: Quite.
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Post by Rosalind Tarana on Jan 12, 2010 13:16:56 GMT -8
The gypsy girl was lost. Lost in the revelling of mortals drunk on adrenaline and magic, lost in the swooping, swirling dance, lost in the feral primitive music and beating of war drums. Only a distraction was tugging at her unfocused mind.
Faces appeared out of the dark, causing her step to falter. Her parents looked over, concerned; their daughter was talented in dance, and rarely hesitated. She brushed off their worry with a distant smile, melting back into the crowd of dancers with a flash of crimson and gold, dark hair and eyes bright with false cheer. But inside she was uneasy and quickly slipped away from the celebration.
At the edge of a copse of trees, alone and with the sounds fading into a dull throbbing in the night, she could concentrate. White faces loomed at her, their eyes sad. So many faces, flashes of terror in their eyes causing her to gasp. And a recurring image - a rivulet of blood, falling from nowhere and splashing to the ground, only to disappear in a haze of spiritual magic. The sudden scent of fear filled her nostrils before it too disappeared as if it had never existed and the girl knew then that something was terribly wrong. And then, as if to underline her sudden understanding, a piercing female scream split the still night air.
Terrified and frozen, Rosalind looked around desperately. Which way? A young female wavered into sight, those same sad, scared eyes staring at the gypsy girl, knowing she could see. A hand beckoned and then pointed down a nearly obscured path and the girl stumbled down it at once. She did not stop to heed her own safety; her thoughts were muddled by the scream and the crowd of spirits she brushed past, chilling her skin. So many! So many dead people, clinging to this area and to whatever had incited the scream. Moments later, her own scream echoed through the night, first terrified then suddenly, passionately angry.
"Get away from her!" She had forgotten her fear, forgotten any sense of self-preservation, reacting in a way that befitted her passionate nature and value of life. The sight of the vampire failed to incite anything but fury and she forgot that she was woefully unprepared to take on a murderous Daemon. Nonetheless she raised her chin, brown eyes crackling, the moonlight stealing her colours but not her passion. "Stop! Now!"[/font][/color]
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Post by Aradath D'Lagen on Jan 12, 2010 14:32:54 GMT -8
Aradath stared into the flames, eyes half closing as he watched them dance. He was dimly aware of Tobias talking with a group behind him, but he found that his mind was drawn elsewhere. Something was out there... Something that shouldn't have been. Wolves? No, he wouldn't have sensed that. It was something dark, he could tell by the way his spine tingled.
He turned his gaze away from the fire. Dark magic? He made his way toward Tobias, skirting around the group he was standing in. Without saying a word, he put his hand to his apprentice's chest, right over the pendant he wore.
"Ebrithil?" Tobias flinched, startled. His master was acting strange. "What is-?"
He sensed no magic being cast while channeling Tobias' artifact. That meant that there was something else going on. A creature of darkness? "I sense something. Stay here, and don't follow me." When Tobias looked like he was going to protest, Aradath continued. "I mean it." He was then aware of the fact that Tobias was standing within a group that probably now thought him to be strange. "... Carry on." With that he took up his staff and slipped out the door into the night.
Raising it, he let off a bright white light. The night was silent, too silent. He followed his senses, trying to figure out just what was going on.
"Get away from her! Stop! Now!"
Aradath's eyes widened slightly at the sound of the voice, and he hurried forward, face set in determination. "Who's there?"
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Illyr Norec
New Member
You're insane if you think you'll beat it.
Posts: 146
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Post by Illyr Norec on Jan 12, 2010 17:24:33 GMT -8
Illyr cried out in fear and apin. Was that pleasure that was tickling her tongue? No, it couldn't be. It was far worse than that... Reatcher had looked up, his fangs dripping blood. "Mortals?" He sniggered, blood splashing down onto the limp girl below him. He held a feline stance, eyes defiant with hapiness and longing. "And lookie here. And old man and a girl. Pathetic little army they've sent to take me out, isn't it, Illyr Norec?" His voice was cold, dripping sarcasm and fury. She flinched away from it, her lead-weighted limbs refusing to move. "Vampire," She spat, blood slipping down her lips onto her lap. She was propped against a shallow dip in the ground, Reatcher poised at the top of it. His hand was suddenly on her face, sending stars to her eyes. The blow had startled her more than it had hurt...A mere shock to anything possible. His grin loomed above her and her head spun. She fought the urge to spray the wine she had drunk all over the white snow. Then it should truly be bloodied. She tasted blood in teh back of her throat. Felt something warm and wet slide down her neck into her dress. It felt so disgusting...Terrible. Reatcher was cackling tot he stars, his head turned toward the older man of the two. "So, old man. What are you and little twit-pixie over there going to do now?" His voice was casual. Mocking...Slathered in thick hatred. "I daresay you interupted my dinner. You should pay for that." His hands had lengthened into what looked like.../blades/? Was he really going to take on them both at the /same time/?!
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Post by Gerhardt of Nuro on Jan 12, 2010 20:20:53 GMT -8
Ger smiled at the light mage just as he would smile at a child. The difference? Ger liked children. He did not like this mage. Luckily, his moods were always well hidden. “Any talent may be used for evil, Mage of the Light. Including yours.” He knew that better than anything. Sky magic was often considered a type of “white” or “good” magic. Turning to Gavin he said, “I do not perform stage magic as a profession. I am a Weather Mage first and foremost. My sleight of hand is nothing more than mild entertainment. I perform for free.” Most mages would be livid if someone thought they made a living off of stage magic. Then again, most mages were also very arrogant in one way or another. The bounty hunter was simply expressionless. His income was not primarily earned through magework either, after all.
There were more interesting things to think about. Ger had observed an interesting sequence of events. The child opened his mouth, he was interrupted, and then kicked by his sister. Assassin. That settled things in his mind. Best be careful around this one. He offered the children gentle smiles. Ger remembered his first time to the city. It had certainly been wondrous, but not quite as wondrous as he had expected. The stories far outdid the reality.
He considered the stories he could tell them; stories to frighten and stories to amuse. He opened his mouth to reply when an odd sight caught his eyes. Rosalind? His eyes widened as he caught sight of her. Quickly scanning the rest of the crowd, Ger noticed other members of his gypsy troupe as well. He gave the two children a copper each and then offered a polite dip of his head to the other two. “Please excuse me from continuing this conversation. There is someone I must greet.”
Without another word, Ger walked away, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him. “Get away from her! Stop! Now!” He rolled his eyes. Rosalind the Hero. What was she going to do? Dance her opponent to death? Even so, the sound of her voice made him speed up a bit. He paused when he caught sight of the problem. A girl was being attacked by a vampire. And the other two were…what? Glaring angrily. Ger almost wanted to laugh. But he had a cover to protect. If he stood by and did nothing, how would that make him look…?
Luckily he still had a few moments to make the decision. He had not quite reached them yet.
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Post by Rosalind Tarana on Jan 12, 2010 22:54:17 GMT -8
Rosalind's breath caught in her throat and a brief thrill of terror ran through her, but it was quickly doused by flaring anger at his arrogance and casual words. How dare he! Hunting here, tonight of all nights! She was just about to (stupidly) run forward before her attention was caught by the arrival of someone else.
The man that joined her was elderly but her quick appraisal told her he was a magic-user of some kind, the robes and staff a dead giveaway. So he might have been old, but he had something on her and on reflection slapping a hungry vampire around the face wouldn't be the most effective of actions. And was that footsteps behind her? She couldn't turn and check because it looked like the Daemon wasn't going to flee into the night due to their interruption, as she'd vaguely hoped. Instead, it looked like he was effectively and frighteningly armed. As if the fangs weren't enough.
Though her heart hammered madly in her chest, a fast pulse flickering visibly at her throat, it was adrenaline and not fear that she felt. Her eyes flashed with unbridled anger and she stepped toward the Vampire, not away. "I told you, get away from her." Her voice crackled, and for a moment the gypsy girl was bolstered by the scent of fresh hay. A Sheepsbury spirit, sending her a good luck message.
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