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Nunc Lento Cantu; Now a Slow Song (Music Adventure)
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Topic Started: Jul 25 2015, 10:53 PM (674 Views)
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Deleted User
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Sep 5 2015, 04:27 AM
Post #16
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Deleted User
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After the assault of those beastly little lizards, Cassandra found herself inhaling deep and pushing out all the pain that her muscles were beginning to inform her of. Her leg still burned from earlier, but she ignored it and smiled at her two cohorts.
"This castle around us gets quite old, the stone under foot still dead and cold, though I'll say if I may be so bold that it seems this place has a tale untold." Shrugging, Cassandra continued to the final destination of their path, relieved to be through the obstacles in their wake, though she knew that there would obviously be many more before them.
And obstacles there were: a creature she knew quite well through her life. The Djinn had seen and faced several sphinxes before, though unfortunately they were not always positive experiences for her. In fact, she was primarily fodder so her Masters could cycle through possible answers without worrying of their own death. This time, however, she knew that she would not be capable of escaping a more untimely fate.
Cassandra's eyes flickered to the seal and door, though its pertinence was lessened compared to the beast blocking their route. Whatever those marking read was meaningless in the grand scheme of matters and what mattered was that sphinx's claws potentially entering her body. Not a pleasant notion, obviously.
Her mind raced, catching up to the riddle laid before her, memorizing what she could and analyzing it. Then, she stopped and scolded herself. Analyzing is the worst thing to do, the answer to the puzzle is right before you.
The Djinn fought back a bit of a chuckle at even her thoughts being in rhyme, an aspect she rather enjoyed at the moment for the levity of the situation, and stared hard at the intellectual eyes that glares upon her, probably hoping she would get the riddle wrong in lieu of its meal prospect.
The words of the riddle fell into place and she closed her eyes to let the words at least come to her mind to work her way through the encryption. Happiness the first to go.. first of happiness I know... H. Life draws to an end where.. life and end have one to compare .. E. To do something again is 're'.. from the beginning makes me see R. Cassandra's eyes lit up and she grinned at the beast. "A hero is what you want me to say, a hero is what will win you the day."
At the sphinx hearing both answers it desired, it shook its unruly mane and growled softly to them all, "Then pass me now and linger not, less your lives shall end before you lose what is sought."
With that, it launched back to its unknown perch out of all their sight, vanishing as quick as it had arrived. Behind its previous location, the glow had vanished and instead the door was cracked open, ominously awaiting their entrance. Through the doorway they progressed, the hall changing to stairs that started a steep ascent, though it seemed at least these were in tact. Occasionally as they walked, bones and bits of the occasional debris could be seen (or felt under foot). Cassandra briefly stooped low to pick up a fragment of what had collected over the time and frowned. "This is odd, I would say.. fur and blood with decay." The Djinn dropped the tuft with a deeper frown and glanced to her companions with a shake of her head. "An odd find to be had." Another pause. "I just hope this doesn't reach something bad."
Another crunch under foot, more bones littering the passageway and scratches along the walls as they climbed to the final steps. The dilapidated remnants of a door lay in miscellaneous fragments at the top of the stone, forgotten probably for centuries by the looks of things, old blood dotting their wooden remains. A thick chain lay forgotten down a number of stairs as they passed; one could presume it once held the door fast when it was in more of an appropriate position.
Breaking through to the room beyond them, they were assaulted not by beast or undead, not by music or fright.. but by the sight of a bedroom. A simple room that looked destroyed by both time and creature as claw marks wrecked havoc on the walls and four poster bed, the curtains torn asunder and all other furniture that may have once been in the room were long gone to the scattered bits and pieces dotting the scene.
However, curled up on the bed was a hound. It was a decent-sized dog, dingy and dark grey as its ribs showed quite well on its still breathing body. Sleeping, by the looks of things, though who knew for how long? The wolfen creature stirred slightly and an ear twitched in their direction, hearing the steps on the stairs and shifting of the debris. A lazy eye opened and its head slowly raised to tip in the 'intruder's' direction.
Cassandra paled a bit.. she had never seen a beast like this, but somehow she knew there was something wrong about it. She felt chilled, her fingertips numb for no reason (and not because she was a Marid, mind you), and even the other two could sense it. Scarheart's ears could definitely pick up the grinding of bone and the snarl that emitted from the wolf's muzzle, deep in its throat. It wasn't the sound of a natural creature, however... normal animals didn't have that thrum and change of pitch. Raferties could feel the pulse of taint and darkness surrounding the bed and even radiating off the very stone of the room.
This was not a home..
It was a cage.
The grating bones became louder, more noticeable to the others as the wolf rose to all four and almost seemed to grow in size with its aura growing with it. The sound originating from its throat was more evident now - laughter.
My, my, my... look what is here? Three tastey morsels have seemed to appear! Oh what a treat, two men folk to eat and a girl to gnaw upon in defeat. Which of you first shall I nibble and chew? I see also friends that have followed you, too. Straight to my jaws, you have walked into my den, are you all as daft as a small brood of hens?" The voice was grating like it was filled with bits of rocks, unused in the years (if not centuries) it had been trapped within the chamber. However, it still maintained a light, almost happy and aloof tone to its plucky song. Raising, the fur rippled and the wolf began to grow even more, the front paws snapping and elongating, the noise sickening enough to almost cause Cassandra to retch. Instead of paw, a furred hand grasped at the pole of the bed and (now with distinguishable gender) the lycanthrope hauled himself forward to the end of the mattress. His eyes darted between each of them as his entire body twisted and contorted to in a matter of seconds fill the entire gap of the end of the bed; the dog no longer so simple a creature - now a hybrid of man and hound. A really big hybrid.
You all smell of meat, bloody and raw; I'm saddened I was not the only to claw. However, don't fear, if you impress me tonight..." The werewolf grinned wide, a bit of saliva oozing forth from its jowls. "I may let you have my gift after the fight.
And then, he lunged.
Scarheart was the first that the monstrosity wanted to sink his claws into. It was almost like he could smell the seeming frailty on the man - weakness in the dog's mind; he salivated for the sensation of weak meat under his nails. The sheer brute strength of the beast would be surprising for some, perhaps not for others. This was a hundred plus year old werewolf, after all. What did you expect?
Even as he stepped forward in what appeared to only be two quick movements, the bed cracked under his foot and the lycanthrope's other claw lashed out to knock away both the casters. He could smell the magic like a perfume lingering around their existence. Of course it was smart enough to know that casters were only useful when they could speak, so that's where his claws yearned for - their throats.
Cassandra, caught partially off guard as she had never (even in the centuries of her life) encountered this type of creature specifically, found herself scrambling to move out of the way of the assault. Even her occasionally unnatural grace didn't save her from the edges of the claws raking into her shoulder. Thankfully, she had managed to turn her body at just the right angle to not allow the blow to sunder her throat, but her right shoulder was still a deep injury. The werewolf's claws clung to her flesh and ripped at it, almost becoming stuck on her bone.
Unfortunately and yet fortunately at the same time, the lycanthrope wished to continue the momentum to Raferties as he ripped his nails free of Cassandra's collarbone and relished in her shriek of pain, though he did jerk and growl at the backlash at striking the Djinn. It had been quite a while since the lycanthrope had heard the wonderful sound and he loved every moment of it, but the frozen blood of Cassandra clung to him and stung rather potently. Although it was painful and effective in informing the werewolf of what would happen should he attack Cassandra once more, it did not stop his sweep. The Djinn scrambled back and clutched at her shoulder, though she attempted to ignore the pulsing pain. It was unimportant in the grand scheme of this encounter: she needed to focus.
Magic sprang to her fingertips, though a bit weakened from the distraction, and she prepared to defend herself against this odd creature's future attacks.
_________________________________________________________________________________ Musical Challenge :: Word count - 1675. Of Wolf and Man
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Deleted User
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Sep 11 2015, 06:03 PM
Post #17
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Deleted User
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"Great Grandfather, Gamma is calling for you." The sweet young thing took the man's hand and led him through a large, simple farmhouse. Her family had never once wanted for anything, thanks to her Great Grandfather's hard work. He had worked diligently his entire life and earned the right to leave a comfortable fortune behind for his family. For all his years of toiling, though, he gave himself a gift as well - the gift of travel.
His wife died many years ago, but not before giving birth to a single baby girl. As soon as that girl was old enough to become her own woman, he left her the farm, animals, supplies, tools, and all manner of wealth to protect herself thoroughly. That girl was Anjelique - that girl was 'Gamma' as his sweet, Great Granddaughter took to calling her.
Anjelique had married for love - true love, the man would dare proclaim. The two were the finest couple he'd ever witness, even after he gave up the simple life and began his travels. They had so many children he couldn't even count them, to be honest. Then those children had children, and here he was - prepared to witness the death of his own daughter.
Hren felt the anger rise within. The anger of mortality and losing his own daughter, who had aged, while he had not. His family, as little as they ever saw him, accepted this monstrous existence - but he still could not. The hand not held by his Great Granddaughter clenched into an intense fist, knuckles turning white and nails driving against flesh.
The second bout of anger was at himself. ~How could I have ever been so foolish! How could I have let myself fall in love, or worse, let her fall in love with me?! How could I have come back to see my daughter, put her through this anguish? Why... why does it all have to die...~
He watched his daughter slowly fade to nothing while she held his hand, and her massive family was gathered around. He barely knew any of them, and he'd make damn sure not to get to know any of them. When it was all said and done, he handed the sweet child that had come for him a bag of countless gold coin, and walked into the sunset, never to see another one of them again.
Hren had spent so long focusing on his inner rage and hatred that to be honest, he thought it completely gone. The anger he displayed in his youth, as a mercenary, as a champion, a killer - he wished it had all been behind him. For the most part, it was.
When he was miles from that house of death,, he found the highway that horizontally segmented the valley in which his family resided. Following it east to leave the country as quickly as possible, he soon found himself empty-headed. The anger at the mortality of his loved ones was so strong, it clouded him to any other thought, and eventually there was none at all.
His quiet traveling was interrupted, however, when he encountered a merchant and his family coming his direction fast, their horses pulling at the wooden cart so hard and fast they were frothing. Behind the wagon, five men on horseback chased them, crossbows trying to take aim while they burned with the intent of making the family dive from the wagon.
Hren had seen their type before, and was quite familiar with them in fact - slavers. For a brief second, he didn't care. ~What's the point? It all dies anyway.~ He just kept walking, moving to the side of the road so they could all just pass him by. Then his soul took over, and he just didn't have it in him to be so nonchalant.
He moved to the center of the road and stood solidly in the path of the pursuing horsemen. He was sure, of course, that they'd just try to veer around him and continue following the family, so he brandished his glaive as well, displaying the fact he could reach quite a distance across that road, and not all of them would get past him easily.
As they neared, actually slowing a bit in curiosity of why one man would think he had what it took to stop all of them, the leader opened his mouth, about to speak. Scarheart cut him of promptly.
"I am Scarheart. I have enough bounty on my head to let you all retire fat and happy. You want to take me, not them - trust me." The men turned to look at each other, then back to Scarheart. One dared wave a hand trying to 'prove' whether or not the warrior was blind. At no reaction, he nodded. "I think its him..."
"Waving your hand around like an idiot proves nothing - but I assure you, I'm both blind, and Him." The leader gave a whistle and that's when the men kicked their horses into high gallop... right after turning them about. The five men raced away, not daring to stand off against a name that, due to Hren's longevity, had become synonymous with dead slavers and bandits.
~Dammit - I hate when they run.~ Hren dropped his Glaive to the ground and pulled out a pylum. A nicely timed throw left one slaver dead on horseback as his steed jerked in alarm and broke away from the rest, dashing through a field and dropping the body to the hard, cooked grass within seconds. A second pylum caught the leader in the lower back, paralyzing but not killing him.
That'd be enough, for now. A dead lackey, three terrified employees, and a paraplegic boss would certainly end their career. Well, it should have been enough. Truthfully though, Hren took to the field to take the dead man's horse then followed behind the others quietly. As they camped that night, he slit their throats, except for the crippled man. He let him live.
~Be careful to not become the monsters you hunt, Hren.~ -Hren "Scarheart" Ildarys ▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼
In truth, the Sphinx had more than two questions. Hren too, had been asked a riddle, but nothing alike the other two. The bizarre, winged lion had whispered inside the ranger's mind, asking him if he truly wanted to die - if he wanted to be rid of the curse that kept him alive throughout the ages.
Scarheart responded simply, returning the gesture mentally through the psychic link: ~Had you caught me a few years sooner, likely. Now? I'm rather determined to put my immortality to good use, thank you.~ That was good enough for the Sphinx, obviously, as the three were allowed to continue.
The sound of small bones crunching beneath his boots wasn't altogether unfamiliar as he had many times entered the lairs of savage, unsophisticated creatures that would eat all manner of prey in vast quantities, including people. That didn't bother him in the slightest. What -did- cause him great unrest was the unbelievable amount of musk in the air. He could taste the stench of a creature ahead who had not bathed in quite some time, and it made him choke back bile several times along the stair-lined hallway.
The smell increased in potency until he actually had to pull a bit of black cloth from his neck up to cover his mouth and nose, affixed by leather bands in the back. With the barrier between his sensitive orifices and the odiferous destination ahead, onward he trekked.
From its rest, the decrepit beast rose with the hunger instilled by its new guests. This was the moment Hren decided it was going to be a battle - he could acutely hear the stomach muscles churning in anticipation, the vibration carrying all the way across the room. This wasn't going to be a clean battle, a challenge with an inanimate creature, or some small lizards - and it certainly wasn't going to be about who could perform the wittiest rhymes.
Nope, this time, there would be real, true, deathly violence. Hren's grip clenched tightly around his glaive near the middle, and waited patiently with those first few seconds - he had to understand the beast's movements. He had to be able to identify the strategy.
The surprise that coursed through Hren's mind was laced with incredible pain, as the beast's claws caught Hren right in the abdomen and ripped a gaping, fleshy hole into his center. Dropping to a knee slower than the beast's continued movements, the ranger seemed honestly done for - outmatched and overpowered by this fierce combatant. His arms quickly wrapped around his belly as the warmth of blood coated him, making a visible pool on the floor. _________________________________________________________________________________ Cassandra waited for the lycanthrope's next attack to swing wide at Raferties (who threw himself into a nearby wall to avoid those razor-sharp claws). With excellent time, her frost magic worked itself into the shape of a short, narrow-tipped blade of solid ice. She lunged forward with a spring to plunge it between the ribs of the wolfen man. She released the last flicker of magic upon impact, sending the frigid blade within the creature's body. Thousands of little ice shards, barely even noticeable to the naked eye, coursed into his blood and organs, ripping and shredding at anything they could - a nasty little trick she picked up from a cruel master who tortured his subjects.
Unfortunately for her, the pain of hunger vastly outweighed any pain he could possibly feel and the starving beast threw himself at her, tooth and nail. One claw raked in from the left still on the back swing from attacking the angelic one while the right, covered in Hren's blood, drove into her thigh. He intentionally clenched his hand so it was like a hook against the bone of her leg - a cut severe and thick. She couldn't fight back a scream that rushed from her mouth, and the bestial man relished in the sudden pouring of fear.
Raferties peeled himself up off the floor, the only position that had saved him from a gash of his own, and lunged forward at the back of the creature that now separated him from not only a now-wounded Cassandra, but also a bleeding, possibly dying, Scarheart.
His staff gripped tight, he let loose a swirling attack of that dense, bludgeoning weapon. His angelic light infused itself into the ends of the staff and three, hard strikes landed into the wolf's legs. He stumbled forward, claws narrowly avoiding Cassandra's face, and pressed his looming chest against her. Of course, that made him completely forget about the Djinn and turn to face his cowardly assailant who would dare strike him from behind!
Raferties, however, as nowhere in sight. After the impact, he had put all the weight on his wings he could for a lift of speed, and thrown himself over the bed to the other side, where he ducked behind it, blocking line of sight completely. He knew the beast would smell his position, but not before Cassandra got in another lick - which is precisely what she did.
She called upon a truly deep resource of magic, delving nearly into the realm of death with the sort of black ice she summoned to hand this time. Sometimes, the water could get so cold and deep, that one wouldn't even be able to distinguish the difference between the cold and the shadow - and this is what she now wielded.
A bare hand clutched at the side of the beast, the opposite side from her first attack, and the black numbing chill dove through his body, every inch of it, practically freezing his muscles solid at least for a second or two. Additionally, it would halt the fact that the other wound she had delivered to the wolf man was healing. His natural rejuvenation slowed by the infected ice.
That was just long enough for the Guardian to roll under the bed and extend a hand out toward Hren, holy magic at his finger tips to try and infuse the blind ranger with enough strength to survive his wound. His hand would never land upon the woodsman however.
Hren's hand jerked from beneath him to catch Raferties' extended arm by the wrist. "No, Lorekeeper. Not yet." With an anguished groan, Scarheart climbed to his feet, the wound already closing. The creature healed its wounds constantly, but not Hren - he would continue bleeding infinitely until it just naturally healed, but he'd never run out of blood. There is one thing that always happened, however, when he received a mortal wound that just couldn't kill him - anger. It was this feral anger that would be the lycan's demise.
One hand reached to his bag to pull out a coin from his home - Mint they were called. The coins, stamped in solid silver with few impurities, would be the bane of this creature. The other hand pulled out his aged hunting knife with a razor sharp edge, and he cut the coin down the middle, nicking his own hand in the process. Now the coin was two, with two sharp points on each.
Clutching them in fist, Hren dove between the legs of the stunned beast and came up behind it, just in time for the beast to lunge forward for Raferties - his original thoughts consuming his primitive mind. "Cassandra, another hole - that's where this silver will go." Hren gave her a quiet nod.
The Djinn's magic again formed into solid ice, but this time much more akin to a mace head in appearance. It flew from her finger tips to dig hard into the lycantrhope's back, sending a spray of blood down through its fur. The spikes of the ice shard erupted outward as well, exacerbating the wound further. "This creature is surely tough, are you sure that silver is enough?"
Cassandra frowned as the hole began to close. Raferties tucked himself entirely under the bed as a few feathers were ripped from the tip of his wing by the beast's downward raking claws just before he stood straight and yelled from the pain in his back. Raferties was spared from the second attack. The wolf spun on his heels and threw a backhand far too fast for either combatant to dodge, but it was Cassandra who would receive the impact, throwing her into a wall, her head hitting just after her back.
Hren was too far gone to worry about his ally just this moment. A kick drove into the knee of the lycanthrope to turn his attention back to the ranger, but he was already moving again, rotating around to the side and lunging onto the bed. As the beast turned to follow, Hren was already diving yet again, off the bed, under the swinging arms, and behind the werewolf. Without hesitation, one coin was driven deep into the closing wound in the back of the monster.
The silver burned at the blood and flesh, and white smoke poured from the sizzling opening. With a howl, it turned to face Hren yet again, but this time Hren took a different approach - he was already lunging at the creature. Scarheart's shoulder slammed into the chest of bestial adversary - the impact of which sent them both toppling onto the bed, even as Raferties rolled back out from under it to rush to Cassandra's side.
She wasn't quite unconscious, but fading fast. The healing angel laid his hands upon her to repair some of the minor damage to the back of her head so she could rejoin the fight. As the two looked over, however, Scarheart was straddling the chest of the wolf.
The remaining shard of coin was wedged into Scarheart's hand, between his knuckles, with the point facing out and down. He was using his left hand to knock aside the flailing wolf's bites and claws, and the ranger's arm was bleeding profusely for the defense, but it was working - leaving the creature's neck and shoulders exposed in the chaotic panic that was starting to flood the wolf.
He continued to ram that silver-bladed fist home into the creature - over, and over, and over - even while blood sprayed onto his face and the rest of his body. No, Hren was gone right now, and left in his place was just a fraction of himself - who he used to be, and still had to be occasionally. Within seconds of watching, the two onlookers realized the wolf was dead. Hren didn't.
It would be a long moment before either of them really got the courage to approach the blind ranger, Cassandra speaking up first. "Scarheart, to you I implore, I cannot stomach anymore, of that gruesome blood and gore..." Raferties soon followed.
"Surely the fiend is dead, my friend - let's put this madness to an end..." Between the two voices, Hren did stop, immediately putting his hand against the creature's chest to feel for a heartbeat or a pulse. At feeling none, there was one gruesome task left to complete. Scarheart made sure they couldn't see exactly what had to be done, but he left the silver deep within the wolf's heart - that it'd never wake again.
Hren moved back to the floor, easing himself to the ground and holding his abdomen. "I am truly sorry you had to see, that more feral side of me. The injury was so severe, I couldn't see the world so clear. At least its dead, with minimal harm - my own wounds should cause you no alarm."
Raferties didn't really care if Scarheart was immortal, or would -eventually- recover, he was needed now, and proceeded, despite protest, to heal that abdominal wound. They would rest here, even amongst the gore, at least for a little while more. _________________________________________________________________________________ Physically, Mentally, and Emotionally exhausted, the trio of heroes had to return the way they came - the bedroom was a dead end. As they returned up the stairs, however, they'd find the sphinx gone, and a new exit on the left-hand side of the room. It would not be so easy as to walk through it, however.
Now, before the door, was a simple scale. A feather was on one side of the scale, nothing on the other - but a few words inscribed along the metal plating at the bottom:
Three of you hear, only one can go forth, let the purest of sin, show their heart's worth. _________________________________________________________________________________ Song: Fight Fire With Fire
3108 Words
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Raferties
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Sep 14 2015, 10:35 AM
Post #18
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It was true that Raferties had been in more battles since departing Solaris' heaven than he had ever been in his millenia of existence beforehand. He had faced down many dangers both to his adopted worlds and to friends as well as himself, and had done so with more courage and ability that he would have beforehand given himself credit for.
The lycanthrope was by far one of the most viscous of foes he had ever faced!
Perhaps he miscalculated its speed and strength after what must have been a long time in his prison, or maybe there was magic in this place that also kept him fit and strong. In either case, the assault had virtually caught him by surprise. No time for finding rhythms or trying to disrupt as he had done before; this time it was simply survive.
The Lorekeeper's heart had just about stopped when he saw Scarheart take the deadly blow, one he was certain was mortal before the beast had gone for another round at Cassandra. That the man had survived it baffled his mind to no end, and the command to leave the wound be even more so. But he wasn't given any time to argue, as the creature was still a very deadly threat and the angel saw something in the woodman's eyes that made him back up, obey.
He saw the fires burning there, and knew if he didn't give ground, he might be on the receiving end.
A quick dive under the bed and the loss of a few feathers later - a painful wound but in truth very minor that would regrow after a day or so - Raferties found himself scrambling once more to avoid being crushed beneath it as the man and beast toppled atop it. He didn't let his concern waver there at the moment, as Cassandra was more in need of him, weak his healing magic might be compared to one of his Seraphim siblings. But it was enough to close the gash in her head, and together they turned to rejoin the fray... only to find it was already over.
Raferties had truly never seen such ferocity up close before. He was aware that some Solarian angels could be driven into near-blind furies, especially Archangels when the needs was pressing enough, but this... this was primal, animalistic, an equal draw for the ferocity the lycanthrope had displayed, and then some.
It was more than a little frightening.
The beast was long dead before either of them had the skill to move, though thankfully their words did the deed of calming Scarheart down. Raferties was relieved to hear the man speaking again - this revealed the return of a sound mind - but he couldn't hold back the small, wry frown at the dismissive words concerning the wound. Cause them no alarm, indeed! What kind of angel would he be, let alone a Solarian, a Guardian, and the Firstborn Guardian to boot, if he were to let such a wound persist? At least weakened as he was, Scarheart could only offer token protests to the healing.
Discovering that the room was a dead end after such a harrowing battle was a disappointment, to say the least. It made Raferties wonder if their answer to the riddle had been a mistake - he was fairly positive that his own answer of 'hero' had been correct - but the only passage had nearly led to their deaths. He would never find out the answer to that, however as the spinx was gone, and a new door had appeared.
As they stood before it, looking at the words, Raferties' expression set into a thoughtful one.
♫ "A feather and scales, a symbol well known to a culture of old of my original home. A heart to one side, a feather the test for whether heaven or hell was the fate of eternal rest. But although I know you both might say the proper one is I, I fear that logic I will have to defy. Mistakes I have made, errors grave committed, while I cannot lie by silence the truth I have omitted. Solarian angels are made much like man so their mind and hearts we may understand, and by sympathy and empathy Solaris' light to them show. But by these same flaws I should not forward go. Though you have shown much virtue, Scarheart, I say you should also remain, for what I have witnessed tells me your are not un-bloodstained. That leaves you, Cassandra, to proceed, for I would claim your heart purest of deed. Nothing I have of you this day seen tells me that darkness your spirit heeds. You use magic to defend yourself and your friends, and in battle with hungry lizards did not strike for their end. This glimpse and more tells me my thoughts are true - this door before us is meant for you."♫ He gave her a bow and gestured towards the door.
As Cassandra approached the door, is glowed a soft white that seemed startlingly intense for the other two, forcing them backwards while it was pleasantly welcoming to the one who dared to be judged. For a moment a pure white feather, brighter than any of Raferties' plumes and the seeming source of the light, floated before her, then touched her chest and vanished. Clearly it judged her worthy of passing through.
What she found before her was something of a surprise, however, as it was a simple chamber no more than ten feet square, with another door before her. A short pedestal stood center in this room, with a square frame upon it where at one point another panel had held more words. It had seemingly taken some damage however - it was incomplete, with pieces strewn upon the ground around her. If she wanted to read what it said, she would have to put together the pieces first.
(987 words - Game On! - Draw; sadly, no song this time as I couldn't find one that fit well enough. Oh well!)
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Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari. Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Deleted User
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Sep 18 2015, 01:09 AM
Post #19
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Deleted User
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Honestly, Cassandra would never have imagined that she could see such rage in one entity.
No, not the lycanthrope; she had experienced their wrath, though that was such a faint memory that she honestly was thrilled that the other two knew specifically what to do with the beast.
It was Scarheart, her master, that shocked her. Such fury and feral emotion in a man that she thought she at least faintly knew.. apparently there was a side of him that was hidden. Then again, one can presume that it was kept locked away for a reason - this was apparent now. Closing her eyes, Cassandra took a deep breath and attempted to use her words to calm him... yet the blood continued to trickle from both his injury and from the pulp-of-a-beast that he was ripping to pieces with seemingly his bare hands. Raferties' words fell, too, though Cassandra took a partial step forward, letting her Master know that her presence was near, but not invasive.
Whatever occurred to him, be it their voices, her shift forward, or even some insight upon himself, Hren eventually stopped in his assault and could be seen checking for its heartbeat. It was done.
As the group moved back down the stairs, Cassandra didn't entirely know what to say. What do you say when you watch your friend snap like that? Was it really considered 'snapping' if they were aware of it? She had seen a number of barbarians from her homeland that could easily allow their emotions to rise and fall with the simplest of notions, but Scarheart had never seemed quite like that to her. A part of her wondered if his longevity had taken its toll on him in a different way, one that couldn't be explained. There was a cause and effect that happened in every person once they have seen a certain fragment of life and death. Perhaps this was how he managed to remain so calm and assured the rest of his days: by occasionally breaking free of the emotional prison in his body.
Although all of this was deep and moving to the Djinn, a revelation, even... it did nothing for the matter at hand, unfortunately. The room that they had come to was an interesting one and she didn't really know what to say here, either. A feather and scales? Who thought of that cockamamie idea? It sounded rather stupid to Cassandra, to be honest, but that didn't matter, did it? The test was before them and no matter the opinion of an individual... she was going to have to weigh her heart, according to Raferties.
"You truly find that between your heart and mine a lighter soul lies in one that rarely cries?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow at the angel. "I know I never have committed sin by desire, but I have stood beside many a death pyre. I hesitate to say that I'm pure, but I'll take the test if you're truly assured."
Taking a deep breath, the Djinn stepped forward with one last glance towards the other two. Her body only ached faintly as a reminder to be careful and a bit nervous, but she shook that free and stepped up to the door and scales. A flash of light that washed over her and it was done... as simple as that.
In reality, it wasn't quite "as simple as that", but what she felt at that moment... that's not something that is really of given liberty to tell. You'll have to ask Cassandra if you want to know that.
After she slipped forward to the door, Elsharaz quickly padded up beside her to not allow her to be alone through whatever was through the door. He wasn't the type to desire being left behind, anyway. When they entered the room, they both stopped, blinked a couple times, then glanced back at each other. That's the prize on the other side of the door? A broken puzzle? Cheap.
Cassandra rolled her eyes and dropped to scoop all the pieces up and begin arranging them as she ignored the crass pup. "How about you just help make sure I didn't miss any, alright? The faster we complete this, the better. This room gives me chills. I think there's something behind that door."
Why don't you just try to open it?
"Who knows what's behind it? Perhaps a trap, maybe even something worse? Something better? Since there was a riddle the last number of doors we opened, I want to ensure that there is a key not hidden here before I try to see if the door is even locked."
Elsharaz was little to no help in solving the jigsaw puzzle, but to be fair, it wasn't that complicated of a matter and the Hellhound didn't have thumbs, anyway, so she was better off constructing the inscription by herself. Thankfully, after her completion, the writing was not in a completely foreign language; it was odd, but she recognized a number of the characters and was capable of translating it with ease. Frowning, she tapped her fingers against the plaque and glanced back through the still cracked door at her companions waiting her return.
Elevating her voice to be heard by the others, Cassandra read the writing with a confused, yet still melodic tone, "The past becomes present and lingers 'til dawn, may the person that passes have history n'vr gone. A strength of body and equal in mind, the one that walks through, their soul they will find."
There was silence that followed her echoing words and Cassandra bit her lip lightly before looking back through the now slightly more opened door (Elsharaz was helping the situation, of course). "I do not think my own feet can pass through, then again.. I'm not sure what to do. The riddle's unclear as to what lies in wait, but between you two is, I think, the debate. You both are quite old and with history long, but I'm unsure which would fit the best in this song. An immortal or angel both fit the bill, and you both have histories from the people you've killed." The Djinn paused to think a bit, but Scarheart spoke before she could.
"It would best be myself, I do implore, allow me to choose to walk through the door. The words speak of mind and physicality to be met in assured equality. Although you are strong, my angelic friend, I think it unwise if it were you we would send." Without waiting for either of them to acknowledge his logic (whether there was any or not), Scarheart slipped past Raferties, the doorway, and then Cassandra, managing to eloquently dodge the pedestal in the room even though none had spoken of it. (The Djinn always marveled at his supernatural sense of perception...)
At Scarheart's hand touching the door, a chill swept past him towards Cassandra and Raferties, though Hren felt none of the icey sensation. While Cassandra briefly relished in the cooler air making her feel a little better in this unnatural castle, Scarheart opened the door and pushed his way in. Without a word, the door snapped shut in his wake. Not ominously, as to not worry the remaining two, but enough to ensure privacy for the challenge that awaited him beyond.
A long hallway laid before Scarheart, a broken mosaic at his feet crunched lightly with every progressive step, its faded beauty only seen by Serosa, though she gave him the murmured impression of what he walked upon. Taking a couple of steps seemed easy enough, though Serosa quickly informed him of the metal grating that blocked the door before him. Nothing seemed to hinder his route to the blocked door, but faint whispers did begin to tickle at his ears. The words were incomprehensible, but the intent was soothing and alluring.
Finally, just before he reached the end of the hall, a hand, chilled and light, touched his arm. Serosa was startled, to say the least...
Mostly due to the fact that the owner of the hand was not entirely visible.
Not that Scarheart could see his deceased wife beside him, her visage youthful and yearning to have his touch again, even in her specter state.
"My love. Hren. 'Tis good to see you again." Her voice lingered in his ears and struck an obvious note of fear and longing. "It has been so long and the time has arrived. An opportunity to free me, I have contrived. A body, I need, to shunt out the mind, imprison the soul and my own I will bind. Together we'll be, just help me, my heart. I shan't die again, our lives we'll restart." Her eyes flashed with attraction to the idea of whole flesh once again. "Call the Djinn forth to help lift the grate, her magic she'll use and in the walls I will wait. She won't feel a thing, don't worry at all, as soon as she's gone, all our troubles will fall." Her hand slid against Scarheart's cheek, loving and hopeful.
"You can't think to leave me again... who knows where I'll go when all this chaos does end?"
The only thing that stood between Hren and the next room was a grate... and the woman he loved forcing him to choose.
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Music Challenge :: Unforgiven II Word Count :: 1536
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Deleted User
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Sep 23 2015, 11:19 PM
Post #20
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Deleted User
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Yellow lace curtains hung delicately over the window on the east facing of the simple two-story house. The golden sun slowly climbed its sleepy way over the jagged peaks of the Glamourstone Mountains that marred the entire horizon. Nearly 50 miles of snow-covered grass separated the small home from the plane of grey that dared block the yellow orbs ascent.
A pale woman stirred as the first rays of morning light caressed her autumn-blonde hair. A smile crawled across her face as she stretched her bare arms above her head to embrace the morning cool. Immediately, she spilled out of bed, wincing at the firm landing on the wooden floor, but immediately ignored the sensations to stand naked before the portal of freedom that stood before her.
Looking back over her shoulder, she glanced to the still-sleeping man lying in the mussed sheets and a tear strolled down her cheek. Then, her eyes turned to the closet door where a wedding dress dangled from the knob - and many pieces of it were torn and shredded from the previous day's activities.
No longer could she be patient for her lover to awake, so she launched herself back onto the bed to straddle his chest. He jerked open those eyes, young by looks, but incredibly aged by fact. She stared into his teal eyes, loving the way they shined even though she knew he couldn't see. "Good Morning my love!" She grinned from ear to ear.
Slowly, he smiled as well, wrapping both arms around her shoulders and leaning up to kiss her softly on her lips. "That is the best wake up I've ever had in my life, Alyssa." Slowly, Hren sat up and engulfed her in his strong, warm, loving arms. "We should dress and be on our way, soon. Your father and your fiancee won't be far behind us."
She frowned and rolled over to flop on her back, defeated. "I know you're right I just... I know there's not going to be another bed for 200 miles. Then there's the camping in the snow, and crossing the mountains and... I just wanted to bask in comfort."
"We've double-crossed your family, a Founder and his family, and all of the country is seeking us - my head, and your heart. I wish more than anything we could spend the next year here, but we cannot if we want to have that year." Scarheart frowned with that loving upturn at the end. He hated being right in this matter, but her safety was more important than her comfort - for now.
The two quickly dressed, gathered their things, and prepared for the long trek ahead of them by taking some extra biscuits from the downstairs breakfast table. Quickly, they hurried to the stables to climb upon the back of Bulwark, her massive riding horse, and off they rode to the east, as hard as they could, to leave the world behind them.
"I still can't believe you'd rather be with me, a blind woodsman, than a rich and very powerful nobleman who could give you literally everything you ever wanted." Hren said into her ears as they leaned into the horse together to reduce wind friction.
"Almost everything, Hren - Everything but you." - A long, long time ago.
Hren just stood before the grate, staring blankly at the dense iron, when the voice made itself known. The apparition was beautiful - just the way he remembered her every detail, those hundreds of years ago. He had never once remarried - never once loved another. So maddeningly heartbreaking had it been to watch his young bride wither into dust, that he never again found the means to truly care for another living creature.
"Phantom, be gone. I will hear no more. And how -dare- you choose a topic so sore! I will not sacrifice an ally, put her to death, not even for my true love's behest." Though Hren was practically yelling at the phantom, his voice would not permeate the walls of the riddle chamber.
The ethereal bride slowly approached, not phased by the outburst of discern and worry. "Shhh, my love, this is not what you think - I am not some manifestation of evil brought from the brink, of madness. It is genuinely me, your love and your bride, do not be blinded by unknowing pride and sadness." With a spectral hand, she caressed his face, and tenderly placed a kiss upon his cheek.
"If but proof you desire, then of you I require, only think back to the land on the other side of the wall. If I were not real, how could I recall that ordeal, in which I saw you fall?"
The Glamourstone Mountains were behind them to the west, as the sun set behind the galloping duo of fugitives. Defying the order of a Founder was bad enough, but leaving him at the altar was beyond reprehensible. Hren and Alyssa didn't care, however - they were in love and free. While all of Dalmacia would now hate them, the Kingdom to the east, Nalander, would welcome them with arms wide open - a nation of freedom and equality, or so it was believed by the rest of the world.
In truth, the Found (and Alyssa's fiancee) had sent by wizard a message to Nalander, requesting the aid of the Nations Free-Marshals, a country-wide force of law enforcement that typically just maintained the peace. In cases of great financial profit, however, they were known to do a bit of bounty hunting and extradition.
As the two lovers practically flew over the open grassland, headed toward the dense forest to the east that covered the horizon, they had no clue they were riding right into a trap. Ahead, three Free-Marshals waited for their prey to cross the choke point - a small wooden bridge crossing a stream. Even with all of Scarheart's training, however, and even his incredible sense of hearing and smell, he couldn't detect the magically-cloaked ambush.
Scarheart fought with all his strength and agility, listening for every clue he could be given, but the accursed magic laid upon the marshals made them all but silent, even as they attacked the blind ranger in full force. Alyssa wasn't helpless, though, and she fought with all her might as well, but through their best efforts, only one free marshal was incapacitated in the battle; the other two easily overtook the lovers.
They were held at a nearby cabin, just inside the forestry, until Kolkarrin Coleft, Alyssa's fiancee, arrived to collect his possessions. Alyssa was unharmed, as per the agreement, and Hren was beaten to the point he could barely feel an inch of his body, but left well-alive for Kolkarrin's revenge.
Alyssa was thrown against a wooden wall, hands bound behind her back, and she was forced to watch Kolkarrin take a twisted knife to Hren's abdomen and chest. The type of wounds from which none could survive - unless they were immortal. Of course, no one but Hren knew this. So, to the ground he fell, in agonizing pain, simply awaiting the chance to recover from the stab.
Alyssa was thrown onto Kolkarrin's horse and the two began their journey back toward Dalmacia. Scarheart's body was thrown out into the woods for the animals to eat. The woodsman wasn't about to give up, however. Even so seriously wounded, he made his way back to the cabin, snatched one of the marshal's horses, and took off riding west to chase. Since Alyssa was no longer a maiden, he feared what Kolkarrin's rage would do to her on the journey home...
"You see, my dear, I'm actually here! We can be together, forever, in this Weyr. You barely know the slave, in a flask you hold, but together you and I grew old! It is time, my heart, to finish what we start - call for Cassandra, and then she will depart."
What reason could Hren possibly have for saying no to such an offer? His first love, his true love, the only one he had ever cared for despite his disposition and accursed immortality. Cassandra was an innocent, for certain, but so was his wife - and the evil of mortality took her away from him far too soon. It wasn't fair. Yes, at this point, he was sure of Cassandra's place in some Heaven or another - she would not be in Hell, or a horrible place...
The trail of blood would be noticeable for weeks as his 'should-be-mortal wound' spilled the crimson lines and splatters all across the ground. He wouldn't rest, he couldn't rest - he had to catch up to Alyssa. It was growing dark and he knew the spoiled, rich Founder would have to camp soon. All Hren had to do was ride harder and longer.
Alyssa was sobbing the entire time, unable to keep the tears from her eyes. The love her life was just struck down by the man who wanted nothing more than to use her as a trophy and a bedroom toy. Her father had betrayed her, the government had tried to own her, and Hren was the only one who ever tried to save her from that fate. Now, to her, she was dead and the outcome of her life looked grim enough she was considering grabbing that slender sword from Kolkarrin's belt and killing herself before he could enjoy the fruit of his labor.
Camp was made and Alyssa was literally thrown from the back of the horse onto a padded bedroll freshly laid out by the campfire. Kolkarrin said not a word and just proceeded to press his dominance, arrogance, and physical stature forward, intimidating Alyssa with every step. She screamed, he laughed, and she finally realized all she could do was go for it - get that knife and end it for herself. Luckily, she wouldn't have to make that leap.
The galloping horse could be heard from a good distance behind them as the Founder turned to see the dark-clad rider barreling toward his makeshift camp. Hren stood on the back of the horse and dove a good 30 feet from the charging stallion to tackle Kolkarrin to the dirt. It wasn't a pretty sight, but good thing Hren can't see. He made short work of the spoiled bastard and quickly made his way to Alyssa, who was stunned and unable to really wrap her head around the fact he was there.
They spent the greater part of that evening with Hren explaining his past, his immortality, and who he -really- was.
"I'm so sorry Cassandra, for what I must do, and I wish so hard that it just wasn't true."
Another voice chimed into the back of Scarheart's head, one that couldn't be heard out loud, and one that most certainly did not originate from the monstrous castle. Instead, it was soft and tender, and so familiar - so very familiar, that it removed the specter from his mind entirely.
"Hren, my love, my White Knight - think what that phantom is asking you; its not right. I would never ask of you, to sacrifice anything for me, not an innocent girl, especially. We will be together again, when the time is right, and that is not tonight. Now use your strength and your courage, force open that grate, save your companions before its too late! I'll always be here, waiting for you, to my heart and yours, always stay true."
Scarheart just stood there blankly staring at the grate, though he could not see it. Even as he felt the cold chill of the phantom's hand on his face, he couldn't even hear her words any longer. The real Alyssa had just reminded him of who she was. That's all it took.
With a growl from beyond, and a strength beyond strength, he took hold of those bars that blocked his passage, and shoved at them with all he had to give. Tears streamed down his cheek that only hardened his resolve. "You can no longer trick me, fiend. I've found my way once again. In her own Heaven she waits, I'll see her once more in the end. All life is precious, not a one is to be wasted, and only a fragment of my will have you tasted. Now prepare yourself for a wrath unseen for years, for your end, evil overlord, draws near."
He wasn't yelling or screaming, or grunting or groaning. He was just staring forward, prying that cold iron portcullis from its resting place and shoving it up into the ceiling; slow and steadily. Inch by inch, he didn't yield. His feet slipped on the stone several times, but his balance caught him. His back cracked and his muscles strained, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders even as the spirit yelled, screamed, and shouted profanity at him for abandoning it.
Eventually, the metal would bend and pop before it finally settled into place in the arch of the door, and Hren could walk through. His trial was not over, however, as once he entered the darkness ahead, a powerful magic wrapped around him and Cassandra simultaneously, whisking them away into a medium stone chamber.
Inside, each was in a blue circle on the ground, facing each other. Above them, steel spikes attached to a twisting, turning, corkscrew-powered machine that was slowly inching its way down toward them. The blue runes held them fast within and their only means of escape, stood across the room as Raferties too was transported into this door-devoid cube.
The Lorekeeper stood on a section of stone that was disconnected from the rest, and 100s of yards away from a very obvious lever that would halt the progress of the apparent doom of his new companions, Hren and Cassandra.
Despite the large gap which his wings would probably allow him to clear with a small hop and bat of the feathered apparatuses, there was more to the danger than meets the eye. Large juts of fire rushed from the pit below and holes in the ceiling at random intervals, seemingly with no predictable pattern. The flames varied in height and length, width and strength, and even hues of intensity. To fly across the gap would be suicide to those feathers, and thus to his ability to fly.
To make matters worse, the stone platform he stood upon was beginning to shake, crumbling rock starting to fall into the crevices on all sides as though the entire thing were about to fall through the floor, making the angelic one have to think fast, and act faster.
Finally, along the walls he could reach with a hefty jump, he saw metal bars planted into the stone itself, fastened by rusted screws. Some looked more secure than the others, but a path of pure strength and endurance now stood obvious for him, to avoid that horrible, flame-wrought death. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Song: Tuesday's Gone 2500 Words
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Raferties
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Sep 25 2015, 12:33 AM
Post #21
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As Raferties stood beyond the first doorway, watching as his friends faced their challenges alone, he felt again the ages-old internal trial of a Guardian angel: theirs was a nature of defending, of standing beside those who were in the midst of struggle and if need be shouldering the burden for them, or at least with them. Although Raferties had never received such a charge before, he still carried the instinct with him, one that urged him rush through, follow them, make sure no unforeseen harm befell them. But that same instinct also whispered that sometimes, sometimes those who stood before danger or woe needed to face it, endure the pain and struggle, and thus come out stronger for it.
Though his hand on his staff clenched in a fist, he stood his ground, and waited.
Whatever the puzzle Cassandra solved, and whatever spoke to Scarheart, he was never to know, for no sooner had he started to smile, seeing the woodsman succeed in his battle against the grate than they were all whisked away to a new location - and he found that it was his turn to face a grave trial, even more so because not only was his life on the line, so too was theirs!
It took only a pair of heartbeats for Raferties to take in his surroundings. For a split second, his mind was sent hurtling back in time to just after another Guardian by the name of Tyrend had been rushed back to Solaris' Realm, wings burned by hellflames. Never before had the Lorekeeper witnessed another angel in such agony that he simply had to weep. And even if these were ordinary flames (if even extraordinarily hot!) he knew he couldn't chance what they would do to his wings. Other lives were on the line. Thus the metal beams were his only option.
Quickly Raferties doffed the upper part of his robes, freeing his arms from the billowy sleeves and allowing greater mobility, secured his staff against his back and between his wings by his sash, and darted forward to give a mighty leap. His hand closed on the first beam which creaked, but held, as behind him the stone platform utterly gave way. Now there was no way to go but forward.
Barely pausing to conserve what momentum he could muster, the angel swung on one arm, reaching forward to grasp the next beam, and the next after that. Flames burst and roared scant inches from him, making feathers and clothes smoke but not yet igniting them as sweat both from heat that not even a Solarian could endure gracefully and adrenaline beaded on his brow. In his peripheral vision he measured the progress of those deadly spikes. They were slow-moving but steady; could he be fast enough to beat them?
Another lunging grasp... and he gasped in pain, as this bar had a sharp edge that dug into his hand and brought blood welling between his fingers. He almost release his hold and took to the air on reflex, but for a gout of flame reminding him of the deadly nature of such a choice. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Raferties swung himself to the next bar, and it gave way beneath his grip, forcing him to backtrack onto the one that caused him injury. For an agonizing moment, he just hung there, momentum dead and blood trickling down his arm in a thin line.
Dare I try to fly? I believe I could swing across the gap, but if I fall short, my only recourse will be my wings. Is it better to just take the risk and use them? Down went the spikes another inch, Scarheart crouching now, and the Lorekeeper knew there was no more time to debate.
With increasing velocity, Raferties began to kick his legs back and forth, desperately trying to ignore the burning in his hand as the wound was torn further open. When he judged that he had enough forward thrust, he let go, arcing through the air towards the next beam.
He hit it with his fingertips, narrowly managing to get a solid enough grip to vault to the next. Now things were a bit trickier, for not only did his right hand hurt him to grab anything, but his own blood made it slick, and the constant use ensured that his natural regeneration had no time to assist. Raferties forced himself to not think about it, just act!
The last rung was further from the previous by a far margin, and as he let go the Lorekeeper realized with horror that he couldn't clear the gap! With the flames roaring and his friends perhaps fifteen seconds from a horrible end, he did the only thing he could do: Spread his wings and fly!
A sudden nearby eruption narrowly missed his right wing, and the updraft caused him to go hurtling towards the ceiling for a moment out of control! As he fought to right himself, a second burst from above nicked his left wing, and Raferties screamed in pain, twisting mid-air to desperately tear out the burning feathers before the flames could spread to the rest of his wing. Finally, all caution to the wind, the Guardian simply gave one mighty wingbeat to get himself going in the right direction, folded his wings, and went into a blind dive like a falcon.
Raferties grunted as he impacted the hard stone on the other side, rolling and tumbling across the ground, staff slipping free to bang up against Cassandra's prison. On hands and knees in his haste, the angel scrambled over to desperately look at the runes as from the very low height of the spikes he didn't feel he had enough time to get to the lever... and found he understood them! They were in the language of magic in his home world, marks for binding and holding as sturdy as stone.
And he knew the proper words to counter them.
With out hand directed to each of them, moving in matching patterns in the air, the angel spoke a commanding language of harsh sounds that sounded even more jarring as they came from him, and the runes shattered like glass, allowing the pair to tumble free from beneath the spikes which came slamming down a moment after they were clear. Behind them, the flames simply stopped, leaving them panting on the ground in a cube lit by lingering radiance from the gap.
♫"Are you both alright? Not cut nor marred? I am very glad I knew the magic for movement unbarred."♫ His hand he knew would be alright; the pain was already beginning to fade under regeneration. Might not look too pretty for an hour or so, but that was a small thing compared to the others. His wing - that hurt a lot worse, and would take longer to heal, the appendage tucked tight against his back and by his own understanding of how it worked he knew his flight would be impacted until the burned flesh mended and the feather's regrew - he'd had to tear away more of the flight feathers than he'd liked. Careful of his hand, the angel used his sash to clean his arm and slipped the upper part of his robes back on - after the intense heat of the flame jets it was almost uncomfortably cold.
Behind them, were any of them to look, they would see that while no open way had appeared in the cube itself, down in the gap Raferties had crossed a cave was now visible with the fires not impeding vision. It was about half-way down, accessible by a series of ledges that were easy hops down to it, and was the source of illumination as well as a misty fog that rolled out of its mouth.
((I have ideas for the next part; just thought I'd allow for a little dialogue))
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Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari. Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Deleted User
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Sep 29 2015, 09:49 PM
Post #22
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Deleted User
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As Cassandra had allowed for Scarheart to continue in their miniature gauntlet of odd puzzles, it never would have occurred to her what he was going to be facing, or more specifically who. It would never have crossed her mind to ask what it was that he had seen. She would never know how technically he could have and almost did allow his love to take her body to rekindle a lost love.
If she had known, a part of her would have been tempted to tell him to do it.
In all the silence that followed his departure allowed too much time for the Djinn to muse over her own 'trial'. It made her feel a little awkward, honestly. To think that she had a more 'pure' soul than the other two? Than an angel? Her skin crawled just thinking about it, but she didn't want to question such a thing. They had continued on through the challenge, hadn't they? It had to mean that they were successful with their choices. The tasks she had committed in the past... Raferties was right, honestly, she had not been the one to technically choose the fates of the people and their ill wishes. The reason, truthfully, why Cassandra was so disturbed by the results was that she had always felt guilty for what she was required to do... at least she did when she was proverbially younger.
Near the beginning of her existence of a Djinn, she remembered the internal anguish. Then, as she continued, there was an onset of coldness that wasn't from her affinity to the ice. It was internal and the discomfort of the sensation was fleeting. Inevitably, she yearned for the occasional bad wish... did that make her evil? Was it a horrendous thing to wish death upon people that are willing to commit vile acts?
Interrupting her thoughts was a sudden flux of magic that surrounded both her and Raferties. Before she could even act upon the foreign magic, it swept her away in a familiar feeling of teleportation. She hated when she was teleported by another source, yet what could you do when there was a mysterious castle placed by a wish gone wrong? It's not like she could turn, kick the wall, and order it to stop. Unfortunately.
So, when the scenery altered to instead be a chamber, blue glowing runes, Scarheart in very close proximity, and a long way down... she was at least slightly uneasy. It became extremely uneasy when she noticed the descending spikes and could sense that the magical runes would not allow their exit.
Obviously, her first instinct was to attempt to get out of the encasing circle. Obviously, since the intent of the magic was to prevent escape, Cassandra found that her own capabilities had been stricken from her. Her eyes widened a bit and a fragment of panic set in. If not specifically for her, but for her friend and Master. Sure, he was immortal... but who knew what specifically would happen when the spikes fell. Before she could actually mention her own concern, Raferties starting in his apparently painful route to what would seemingly help the prisoners, Scarheart caught the Djinn's attention.
"Cassandra, save yourself from the pain. You should return to the flask from whence you came."
Raising an eyebrow, Cassandra felt the slight tug of a command, but she knew that he had such a distaste for ordering her around even though he was in all ways her Master. It was just a statement, though she worried that if she questioned it wrong, he might alter his intent of phrasing and force her to abandon him. He was right, she wouldn't die, per say... but it would be excruciating and she could bleed well enough, if Raferties, at least, didn't manage to release them in time.
"You really think I'd abandon you? How silly you must be. Let me ask a question first, then I guess we'll see." Cassandra knew that there wasn't that much time to speak, so she knew that she had to talk quickly... especially if the angel did not manage to successfully stop their impending doom in time.
"What if this isn't the next puzzle? What if my answer was wrong? What if it was supposed to be either of you with the pure soul all along?" She cringed at even saying the words, but it had been on her mind just before all this occurred and she was beginning to worry, to be honest. "I may not make the choices, I may not choose to kill, but the darkness is like a taint, a lust I can never fulfill. I used to not want for fools to die, but time has made me have to lie to myself and pretend to hope that someday soon I won't have to cope. You have been the first to lighten my way, to make me presume I'll be happy someday. I've had ill thoughts and wished for some to pass, to leave me alone, never use my flask." Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not that pure, to you I've done wrong, I just hope my actions haven't made this our final song."
As she opened her eyes to look at her friend, she noticed that, along with the fact that they were having to crouch slightly to avoid the spikes (or at least Scarheart was - he was much taller than she), he was simply staring at her with those covered, blind eyes. This was a fact that caused her to be a little wary, but she tolerated it and waited for some kind of reaction. Any kind of reaction would be nice. Then again, she had said it, right? It wasn't just in her head? Well, it was musically inclined, so she figured that it was out loud...
Scarheart just stared at the Djinn blankly, even as he could hear the whirring of blades and jags just above his head. Slowly, his knees gave in to instinct as he crouched ever-so-gently before opening his mouth.
"I dare not speak of knowledge still, when I do not know nor never will, just how cruel your masters were, or what great crimes you've caused occur. Though I feel with all my age, your tempered mind from eternal cage, could not compare with bestial rage, with which I willingly engage.
And I know not why the Angel thinks, his soul unpure and on the brink, of darker times than you my dear, but you're not the reason that we're here! Just seconds before beyond that door, I saw my lost love from lives before, and she offered to be by my side once more, your life for hers she did implore. I wavered, I doubted, I screamed and shouted, but it was not my own will that saved you, I would have yielded and depraved you. It was her voice from worlds beyond, that allowed my brain to abscond."
He simply bowed his head in shame, lowering to his knees to brace himself for the inevitable end, though he pulled his glaive from his back and braced it against his own leg with the metal edge of the blade poised upwards. He would wait here to brace against the impending doom, in sheer mindless hope that if he stopped his, it would stop Cassandra's too.
"I cannot apologize enough, that the decision before me was so rough, it's not that I do not cherish thee, but I was betrayed by memory. Alyssa would never want such a thing, as your life for hers to have to drain! She bid me move on, by my own hands, and not give in to spiritual demands. So here we are, a punishment of -MY- architecture, with the angel having to save us both at this conjecture."
Scarheart's words rang into Cassandra's head and it was rather difficult to let them sink in. "Perhaps we both are hindered by our past, their voices holding fast and maybe soon at last our memories that are vast will remain in time long passed." Briefly, her eyes flickered to the immortal and after his confession, she felt that she might have actually seen a fragment of his soul that he had kept hidden. "Your decision was one of heart, a choice I'll never question, I only wish I could understand the situational suggestion."
Thankfully, Cassandra didn't need to explain herself as Raferties landed to their side, her personal delima kept to herself. She had never known that kind of love... the closest she could understand was her affection for her Master and their friendship.
Then there was a flash from the runes around the two prisoners and Raferties was beside them, having used his own magic to dispel the entrapment. Laughing softly, Cassandra nodded to the angel. "It may have been easier to use the lever, but your words of wisdom were very clever." Smiling, she thanked him for their release and paused to shoot a glance towards her Master. A wave of embarrassment did fill her, scolding herself internally for such a moment of weakness. Although the thoughts that their imprisonment had been her fault was still on her mind, she wondered if they had collectively needed to 'learn a lesson'. They had both doubted their choices in their challenges. Perhaps they were both wrong.
However, Scarheart's sentiment did ring deep and true. Yes, darkness did follow her. She was a dark horse, to be honest, eternally to be the cause of ill wishes, even ones that were intended for good. However, at least she had a Master that didn't believe in abusing the capability of having a Djinn at his beck and call. She may be a harbinger, but she was not a slave anymore.
Straightening from her crouched position, Cassandra glanced around their surroundings and sighed softly. Another exit, this one even more ominous than the last couple they had trekked through. "Do you ever get the sensation that our trials and tribulations are just a form of elation for some great machination?"
Letting loose another sigh, Cassandra began to scrutinize the best method down... finally deciding that teleporting the entire trio (with their companions close at hand) down to the portal that seemed to be their only means of exit to this chamber. Mist fell to the ground and a chill clung to her friends as they appeared at her side, the teleportation of others, she knew, leaving them with the sensation of their stomachs bottoming out and twisting. They might be capable of also faintly tasting snow berries, but she couldn't completely control that. It just happened that way.
"Let us continue this foray with minimal further delay."
_________________________________________________________________________________ Musical Challenge :: Torn Within (Word Count :: 1778)
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Deleted User
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Oct 3 2015, 08:12 PM
Post #23
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Deleted User
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"What exactly am I supposed to do with a Keep? I'm no King, Dagnes." Scarheart sat on the marble stone awkwardly, an abundantly large fur cloak draped over his shoulders with lion's fur trim. The man in plate before him just chuckled. "M'lord, that is why I am but a lowly Knight, and you are my Liege." There was a smirk on that aged soldier's face. Hren just sighed and rolled his eyes. "A lot of help you are, old friend."
Dagnes' shoulders shook and he could no longer help it, as he burst out laughing. "I'm sorry Scar, but you look ridiculous in that getup." He near doubled-over laughing at the sight.
"Remind me to get a new Knight, will you Dagnes?" Hren sat on the throne sulking for quite some time. Dagnes just laughed harder.
What an interesting way to remind one of what they ate for breakfast, this teleportation. With the frosty magic befitting only Cassandra, the trio arrived through their next ominous doorway through this gauntlet of trials and tribulations. Now before them was a different type of riddle altogether.
The room was at least 50 foot wide and 300 feet long. In small, 1-foot wide squares, there were literally thousands of tiles with strange symbols on them. At a quick glance, Raferties and Cassandra could see that every single rune was different, though some were similar with just small variances. On the ceiling, a gigantic sheet of silvered mirror reflected the floor some 20 feet below it.
Hren, of course, had no idea of any of these features as they weren't exactly the sort of thing that would stand out to a sense of smell or hearing. They didn't move or vibrate, nor hum with magic. Instead, Hren just kept walking forward once the three had recovered from their transportation. It was pure luck that Raferties happened to reach out just in time to stop Scarheart from stepping onto a random runed tile before them.
"♫ Wait, Scarheart, before you continue, there's something you should know; ahead is a field of tiles, with runes that do not glow. Thousands of them, as quick as I can count, and no way to figure them out. ♫" Immediately, the woodsman stopped his movements, going very still.
Cassandra, looking out over the vast confusion before them, sighed and resolved herself to simply sit beside the puzzle, trying to make heads or tails from the entire array of unspoken words. "♫ In all my many years being bound, nothing like this I've ever found. What lies above reflects the ground, I can think of no solution that is sound. ♫"
Hren frowned, feeling truly helpless in this situation.
"Your Majesty! Please, come quickly - there's a black-flagged rider at your gate!" The young page was trembling before Scarheart who, had been trapped on his throne for days now. With much eagerness, Hren stood from his throne and pulled that quiver to his back before one of his guards tapped his shoulder gently. "I wouldn't wear that to meet a possible ambassador, Your Majesty." Hren sighed, knowing his knight was correct, and left the chamber without his weaponry.
Upon getting to the security wall, he climbed those stone steps to enter the protected tower overlooking the Keep gate. Below, a Half-Elven rider on a black horse, carrying a black flag, sat patiently, waiting for the audience of the Lord of the Keep. Without hesitation, Hren called to him. "Why're you at my gates, Dark Rider?" The pointy-eared man looked toward the woodsman and waved, before bowing humbly.
"Great King Scarheart, Slayer of the Seven Sisters Sin, I have come but to ask of you a single question!" The man stared back up, waiting permission to even -dare- ask a question of royalty, even if it was fake royalty. The Blind Ranger just nodded in agreement before speaking. "Ask what you will, Rider."
The dark rider lower his flag to the side of the horse then yelled back up yet again. "Is it true, m'lord, that you're blind? It has been whispered that you cannot see - that your eyes serve you no value! Is this true, m'lord?" Scarheart chuckled, having expected something along those lines - many people lived in disbelief of his fighting talent despite being blind.
Scarheart laughed loudly and nodded with a reply. "Yes, it is true - I cannot see a thing." With that, the rider was satisfied and rode off as hard as he could back North West.
A week later, the Keep was attacked by an entire battalion of black-armored men. A thousand of them crashed against the gates and the walls, killing soldier and militia where they stood in defense of their very new King. The knights begged Scarheart to stay within the keep, that their soldiers would handle it, but the loss was too great for him.
The blind ranger, this time making sure to have his quiver in hand, cast aside the gaudy cloak, pulled tight his glaive to hand, and forced his way, past his own men, to the front gate of the Keep. Two quick steps took him up the side of the stairwell and onto the walls he rose with another few. Grabbing a secured rope from the protective balcony, he swung around to the front with enough force to send him clear into the middle of the opposing force of knights.
No, this isn't a story about one man turning the tide of battle against overwhelming odds - its the story of honor, and how its different for each people. With the glaive spinning through the air with great strength and blurring speed, several of the opposing soldiers were felled within moments of Scarheart joining the battle. That is when a deep horn bellowed and the fighting simply stopped. The ranks parted before the King of the Keep, and a man on horseback rode forward. It was the same man who had, just weeks before, come to ask a question.
"A blind King deserves not to sit on a throne all day, and rule his people, for power is already blinding enough." The man hopped to one side, pulling forth two wonderfully sharp steel axes. He poised them defensively before his chest and pointed at the blind ranger. "But a blind warrior -cannot- sit on a throne all day. He must fight."
The dark-plated warrior then bowed with a grunt, and all his men bowed in suit. "Master Scarheart, Liege of Deadbone Keep, we of the People whose Names cannot be Known, offer you our military might. May the blood we all spill in the future, belong to someone else."
Scarheart paced carefully along the edge of the obstacle before them, thinking what it all could mean. Cassandra was carefully going through her memories of ancient days, ruins she'd been dragged into, and a myriad of other things, to see if she could place anything here. Raferties, of course, was praying for guidance.
After several long moments, a chill air swept through the room, sending tendrils of cold down each of their spines, though Cassandra barely felt it. Before them, hovering above the runed tiles, was an apparition of misty-white consistency. Not only was it translucent, but also it seemed to be comprised entirely of smoke and vapor. Slowly it began to take a more familiar shape. Hren, of course, only felt its presence and could not see its status at all.
As soon as that overwhelming sensation of dread sunk in, Hren paled immediately. His hand reached to Cassandra, his other to Raferties. ♫ "I know this feeling, tell me what you see - is there a deathly white specter standing before me?" ♫ Sure enough, Cassandra and Raferties both answered a hushed yes.
♫ "And does it grow upon us now, with no legs to touch the ground? Just a black, empty, swirling vortex spinning round and round..." ♫ Again, a whispered yes confirmed Hren's suspicions. He took a few steps away, dragging the others with him.
Now, amongst the tiles, 'stood' a black, billowy figure that seemed comprised entirely of hundreds of tattered robes. It had a vaguely humanoid upper body, though the head was covered with a cloak, while its lower half was a swirling twist of blackness that danced on the floor like a tornado.
"Worry not, immortal thing, I'm not here to make you sting. I'm here to give you guidance, a way across. Its simple; fear not loss." As quickly as it had come, it left again, leaving the room still chilled from its presence. As Cassandra and Raferties slowly turned toward Scarheart, he knew already they were to ask him what exactly it was.
♫ "I'm afraid I've led us astray, to have entered this castle this day. Now what lies before is not a riddle, but a device to take our memories away..." ♫ He shuddered and knelt beside the runes, brushing his fingers very close, without quite touching. At the presence of flesh, the tile shone bright orange light, tendrils of the coloration almost reaching out toward Hren.
♫ "What we face before us, is a sea of infinite dread, for each tile we touch with our feet, will steal another memory from our head..." ♫ ____________________________________________________________________________________ Music Challenge Song: The Memory Remains 1549 Words
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Raferties
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Oct 6 2015, 06:15 PM
Post #24
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Lose... a memory....
The thought was so alarming that, in a rather dramatic fashion, it was one brought forth lacking musical accompaniment.
There might have been some to say that Raferties, with his perfect, eidetic memory, should have had nothing to worry about with this challenge. He had over three thousand years of memories stored away - surely what could hurt to lose even a thousand individual ones? Darting eyes found paths he could take, leaping and gliding and hopping to lessen his contact with the tiles to at most a dozen.
But! What memories would be taken away? Would he forget crucial things Solaris had bid him remember for all time? Forget the names and voices of his angel siblings? Forget Belial and Kaya? Forget even his own name? No, he could not risk even one single memory, for even the darkest of them proved to be a counterpoint to the brighter ones to follow, and without them the light lost its significance. He would not even sacrifice the nightmarish memory of Solaris' blessed realm attacked.
"Do not blame yourself for how could you know the way that our path was bound to go?" he asked in counter to Scarheart's guilt-laced song. "You say that no riddle it this but I think that perhaps it is one with merely a twist. We have faced encounters most fatal and our lives at stake but what is the point in something that simply our memories to take? All before a test and this simply to hurt? No, I think our unknown host is not so curt." He reached out and put a hand on the man's shoulder, pulling him to his feet and back away from the tiles. "There must be some trick, some puzzle to be had for I refuse to lose one memory either good or bad. We simply must be clever, more than our foe, and we will find the proper way across to go." He paused, then smiled. "Cassandra, I know much magic you have cast, but do you have enough for one more, even if it be the last?" The Djinn concentrated for a moment, looking out across the tiles and raised a hand, then let it drop to her side and shook her head.
"Even though my power is not yet waned I fear using magic to cross is something I can't attain. There is some counter magic over this place like a web to or meshwork of fine entangling lace. Most of my powers are unhindered but I fear I can use none to take us from here to there." While the angel seemed disappointed in the situation, he also seemed little surprised.
"Wait! Shh! Please, be silent and still," Scarheart suddenly hissed, head turned to listen towards the tiles. "I thought I heard something, though it soft as snowfall on a hill." For a long moment, all of them were silent, and neither Cassandra nor Raferties heard anything other than their own breathing - the angel even made sure to keep his wings still.
Scarheart, however, heard far more. Every sound painted a picture to the blind woodsman, from the beating of his companions' hearts and every intake of breath, to the soft cracking of Serosa's flames...
Tock!
Like a ripple in a still pond, a sudden noise caused a burst across his senses, and told him that his suspicions had merit.
"I pray do not let me step too far, but I must test to see if my theory is marred." He stepped to the edge, and both Raferties and Cassandra reached out to touch his shoulders when he was at the edge. Carefully he knelt again, paused, then reached out and felt in the air about half a foot above the tiles. The glow - this time a shimmering teal - once more reached up towards his hand, but much to the others surprise they saw his hand press down... on thin air!
"What have you found?"
"Invisible steps, detected by sound?" Both angel and djinn spoke almost at the same time in their astonishment, as they watched their companion move his hand away.
"I heard the passage of air and the sound of one strike another. It seems one comes close to us then meets a brother. I did not sense them before but it could be that they did not exist until our spectral warning was decreed. But while I can hear them, neither of you are used to using your senses to the extent I do. They will be worse that mirages to trick your eyes - unless you can trust a blind man to be your guide."
"I trust you, Scarheart, you know this is true. Just tell me what to do."
"I fear not you guiding my steps to the other side; trust in you in my heart firmly abides." Scarheart nodded, then waited until he found the first one again.
"Raferties, you go first so Cassandra can see. And should you stumble your wings will help you from disaster to flee." The angel nodded and moved to where indicated, then with the call of 'Step!' stepped out on literal blind faith.
His foot met a solid surface half a foot up.
It was barely big enough for him to stand upon, he found, and as such he had to spread his wings and arms for balance as it glided across the tiles. It was unnerving, to say the least, looking down and not seeing anything beneath him.
"Brace yourself, for the other draws near! There will be a strike; don't lose your balance and do not fear!" The blow was mild, but made harder for the unexpected nature, jarring him from the right so that he nearly fell. But Scarheart shouted for him to step again, and he did just in time for the next block to move. This process was repeated about ten more times, before without warning jerked forward and stopped, and Raferties was flung forward with a cry!
"Oh no! He fell!"
"Raferties, are you well?"
Raferties slowly pushed himself up, still about six inches above the tiles. He hadn't touched them!
"Yes, I am unharmed though that was quite a fright! It seems there is a large platform here that has kept my memories right." He felt around, finding it spanned nearly the entire distance of the room. "It lurks half-way; be aware of its presence for not landing safely carries quite a costly sentence!" Slowly, having watched Raferties and with Scarheart's directions, Cassandra followed, then Elsharaz with the bonus of being able to smell the others' scents on the tiles themselves. Serosa was able to just fly across, and lastly Scarheart joined them after easily crossing.
"We have made it this far, but now what do we do? Are there more tiles to see us through?"
"No, I hear naught but behind, so I think a different way we must find." Looking across the final expanse, all of a dozen feet or so, Raferties couldn't help but sigh.
"While I could glide across I could not fly; the ceiling is so low I dare not try. And though I could possibly bear you Cassandra and perhaps your canine friend, carrying you Scarheart would mean both of our ends. This is a time I do wish an archangel was I; from fear of wing-weakness then I would not need hide." Abruptly Cassandra's face lit up.
"Ah! I have an idea, but it is unique I admit. Scarheart, Elsharaz, you both to my magic will have to submit. Serosa and Raferties, you both will fly, and if this works them together across safely we all can glide!" Rather than waste time explaining, Cassandra began casting her magic, and right before Raferties' eyes both Scarheart, Elsharaz, and herself began - to shrink! First he gaped in shock as they became smaller and smaller, then as the spell finally left them at proportionally a fourth of their original sized couldn't help himself and laughed.
"I apologize for my laughter but this is just such a sight! And you are quite correct, Cassandra; these smaller bodies will for me be quite light."
This is so humiliating; I'm as small as a mouse! griped the hellhound, his voice tiny and high-pitched, sending the angel into another futilely-muffled laughing fit. I hope you can reverse this or you'll never again have peace in the house!
"I can undo this I promise; my magic will not play me false. Now we should hurry before more time is lost!" Raferties nodded, taking a knee to lift Elsharaz and Cassandra into his arms, while for the sake of not overburdening the angel Scarheart settled on his back between his wings, and clung to his robes.
"Do not fear choking me, Scarheart, for this you will not do. I have often carried my daughter thus, and right now she is far larger than you. Now brace yourselves, everyone, and lets be away! I want to leave this place quickly and return to the light of day!" With the angel going first, and Serosa following to catch anyone who fell, they crossed the rest of the way in complete safety and landed on the other side, where a hallway sloped slightly up. The Lorekeeper set his passengers down, and with another spell they were returned to their original size. Promptly, Elsharaz growled at Raferties and lunged, yanking out a flight feather and surprising him into a small gasp of pain.
"Elsharaz, that was not nice, especially after he carried you all this way! For yourself what do you have to say?" Cassandra scolded.
Neither was his laughing at me, no matter how I looked. I'm sure that's something they'd teach you in one of his holy books. Raferties knelt, waving a hand to show he wasn't offended of greatly harmed, even as the hellhound had to cough and spit out the silvery dust the plucked feather became.
"You are right, to laugh was not very kind, and I hope a sincere apology will wipe anger from your mind. Perhaps when this is over Cassandra will cast her spell upon me, then you can laugh and even chase me if it will appease." The hellhound scowled for a moment more, then gave himself a shake.
Well, you apologized, so I suppose we're okay. Now can we go, Cassandra? I'm hungry - we haven't had lunch today! With all agreeing that they hoped the end was in sight, they continued through the next passage.
This one at least continued up, giving hope that their trials were soon to close. But it seemed there was at least one more in store for them, as when the hallway finally leveled out it opened into a large, bright room. Raferties' heart jumped, thinking it was daylight, until his vision adjusted and he saw that while there was a small window, it was on the ceiling and barely big enough for a child to fit through, let alone any of them. What made it far brighter than before, though, was that the entire room was filled with mirrors. Floor, ceiling, and multiple other mirrors set at differing angles and heights were everywhere, refracting the little sunlight into brilliant illumination. Even as they were standing there, trying to gain some bearing into the situation, a voice spoke that was neither male nor female, but to each of them sounded like the voice of a close friend or loved one:
Of all that exists made by man mirrors alone speak truth like no one else can. Whatever they see, that is what they will show, and this truth for you is the way to go. Find the one that speaks faithfully and the way out of here you will gain the key. Be warned, for all others will speak false, and if you take from them your will endure great loss.
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Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari. Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Deleted User
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Oct 10 2015, 11:00 PM
Post #25
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Deleted User
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As Cassandra had been contemplating the answer to what the appropriate steps would be, she couldn't help but for her eyes to wander to the enormous mirror on the ceiling, reflecting the tiles in a form of wallpapering. It was almost entrancing, really, to stare at the duplicate puzzle, but unfortunately, it did not give way to the true answer to this issue.
Thankfully, Scarheart had managed to find them a loophole to the entire situation, pushing the entire group closer to their destination on the opposing side of the room. With a little unnerving near-fall, some assistance from her own magic, and Raferties' wings, they reached the other side within minutes. Cassandra was thrilled by this, but the wear was starting to take its toll on her tolerance for this castle of music. She enjoyed the notion of their words being illustrated in song when it first reared its head, but she had found that although the music was not tiring in particular, she was growing aggravated by the amount of obstacles in their path. That was putting it politely.
They continued down the corridor until they reached the mirrored room that would be their pausing point. Another puzzle, it seemed. Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she plastered a smile upon her face. "Well, if our reflections will tell what's right, let us enter this mirrored delight."
The Djinn entered the room first, then stopped, staring hard at all the visages of herself that she saw. Glancing around at each reflection, she saw different versions of who she had been forced to be over the centuries. Countless people, some of them faintly forgotten with the passing of Masters that she had pushed to the back of her memory, all of them appearing as different images. Cassandra closed her eyes again, not entirely wanting to see the sight before her. She enjoyed the notion that she didn't have to ever go back to being people she did not like, faces she loathed, and memories that haunted her, causing her to refuse to ever sleep. After a moment, she found herself finally capable of prying each eye open to see how her companions took to the room.
Looking to the other two, the Djinn noticed their own reflections in the mirrors were completely different than her own: Raferties' images were so similar to each other that it was hard to tell that there was a puzzle at all to this room. Scarheart's wore differing clothing, slightly altered ages, but due to his immortality, they were so similar to him current visage that it was also tricky to pick out what was wrong. Which of the reflections were 'speaking faithfully'.
Especially since none of them spoke at all. All three of their reflections stared back at them, some of them seeming to pound on the glass as though they desired attention or escape, and others sitting in the mirrors waiting patiently... but all of their mouths moved silently and all their actions fell upon deaf ears. Cassandra realized, additionally, that even though she, Raferties, and the companions knew what her Master's reflections were, he was blind and thus had no idea without descriptions.
This... was harder than she presumed it was going to be.
As Cassandra took a breath, a thought occurred to her: if their images were so similar and yet her's were so varied... would that make it simpler for her to distinguish without audible words which would be 'speaking faithfully'? A fragment of the Djinn loathed the idea that this was leading to. In fact, it tore her up inside to think of analyzing all the years of her life right before her eyes. Normally, it was just her having to remember what had happened in her past, but now it was technically displayed before her and her two friends quite obviously.
Explanations could be something to come at a later point, she hoped, so she just glanced to the two and shook her head. "Let me see if I can find what lays inside each reflection's mind. Your images look too the same and I don't think it would be easy to win this game. Instead I'll pry into my own versions of me... perhaps I can find which speaks truthfully."
It was not going to be pleasant and she was having to fight back all the rushing memories that associated to the versions of herself that smiled, cried, and shook their heads in shame at her. One rocked back and forth, muttering to herself, not paying attention to the passing people. Cassandra bit her lip, stepping forward so the other two could not see her actual features and judge her for how difficult this was; if she could contribute to getting through this living Hell, she was going to do the best that she could and not let anything so asinine as the past deter her attempt.
A young red-headed girl, around ten years of age with a small birthmark on her neck in the shape of a moon gave her a sheepish wave from one of the mirrors, then waves past her at the waiting angel and blind man. Obviously, the little girl had no idea that one of them couldn't actually see her gesture and couldn't even hear the movement of air indicating the interaction, but the regard was all that really mattered and Serosa informed Scarheart of the salutations, anyway.
Cassandra forced a smile and touched the mirror lightly, then tipped her head. "It's nice to see you, Anabelle... but the mark you don should be a star that fell." The girl grinned brightly, having been one of the first incarnations of Cassandra, when she was a tad more innocent of a Djinn. It didn't last long in her life span, unfortunately.
She continued still, her eyes flickering from one 'Cassandra' to another, shaking her head, frowning, and pausing to investigate each one to ensure that she was not mistaken about their identity. A couple of them gave her issues, but she finally found an error on their person or in how they were acting, even in the menial motions through the glass between them. Some too angry... others not angry enough.
Finally, she found the one that stumped her. Baffled her, even. She left it alone for so long, but it was the last one and she honestly didn't know what to do anymore... she was out of mirrors and had determined that there was something wrong on each other others. "Have I been mistaken or have I forgotten? Who can you be that I have not to see a recognizable feature on this reflective creature?"
Before her stood a beautiful woman that was completely foreign to Cassandra. She stood quite a bit taller than the shorter Djinn and wore an elegant, yet simple dress that pooled softly at her feet and trailed in a fading red material a bit behind her. Long, slightly curled blonde hair fell in waves down her shoulders and her blue eyes were just as piercing as Cassandra's own. She stood with her arms gently crossed as though she were waiting patiently for her turn at inspection, and when Cassandra paused before the mirror, she corrected her poise and raised two of her ringed fingers in mock waving to her counterpart. She did nothing to respond to the Marid's inquiry, but instead gave her a coy smile and waited.
"You... I know not your face. What are you doing in this mirrored place? I do not know what to make of you, I am simply confused... what do I do?" The muttering was more to herself and to anyone in particular, but Cassandra rubbed her face and her eyes flickered to the delicate tiara that rested upon the image. "Who are you... can you be me? What is it that I'm missing, what do I not see?"
The figure in the mirror simply shook her head and touched her own chest, tapping her heart lightly. With a slight shrug, the queen leaned against the frame of the mirror and tipped her head in a rather bored expression. Cassandra could tell that whoever this was, she perhaps was not the nicest of people. That sent a wave of unease down her spine and the slight itching in the back of her mind finally triggered something that she recalled... or didn't recall, to be specific.
She didn't even dare speak the words she thought. The dread was severe within her, but the words refused to spill forth, denial fresh on her mind even though she knew only one way to find whether this was the truth or not.
"I think this is the mirror we seek. The only that will faithfully speak."
Raferties and Scarheart perhaps would not understand why she chose the mirror at hand, but as they wove their way through the mirror to come to her side, she decided that she could not let them know what she saw in her reflection, if they had not already from that distance. The queen extended her hand in a gesture of assistance, smiling mischievously as it took much effort for Cassandra to reach forward. Her hand slipped past the visage of the glass and, closing her eyes first, she stepped through the mirror into the passage beyond, hoping the other two would follow her suit. And hoping that she was not wrong that the image she had accepted was who she was before she was a Djinn.
__________________________________________________________________ Word Count :: 1585 Music Challenge :: The Memory Remains - Metallica
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Deleted User
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Oct 18 2015, 01:02 AM
Post #26
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Deleted User
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Scarheart trekked across the frozen tundra. The winter's wind bit at his face and torso, for he walked naked across the open ice. His feet slipped constantly upon the layers of dense ice beneath him. "Cursed to immortality - can't be killed. We'll see..." Hren pressed into the rolling hills of snow and ice, pressing forward to the world's edge and the frozen north.
Many times the cold drove his body down and he had to slumber. Often times for days would he sleep, only to wake up and be forced to press on through frost-bitten extremities. No, whatever this fate that had befallen him, would not yield to something so simple as extreme weather.
Eventually, ice cracked beneath his weight near a frigid coastline. He couldn't help but smile as his body plummeted into the ice currents. He had never suffocated or drown before, perhaps the answer was this simple. And perhaps not. When the air left his lungs, he fell unconscious and remembered little else.
He woke many months later in a small village on the west coast of the north, the natives there having accidentally fished up his frozen body. They really had no delusions that he was alive, but they put him in a shelter to thaw nonetheless, thinking to give him a proper burial by burning him in a boat - it was the least they could do for the weary traveler. Imagine their surprise when he walked out of the hut of ice wearing a fur.
Scarheart spent years with those people, until his ageless presence started raising alarms and the militant members of their society began asking questions. He learned a lot about how to survive in cold temperatures and took those thoughts with him to this day.
Similar tales could be told of Hren as he made trips to Volcanoes, only to awaken in nearby villages days later. There's the time he jumped off of a ship out at sea only to sit on the bottom for weeks before giving up on death and swimming to shore. Not even the pesky sharks could really do the trick. Hren was stuck in whatever world he belonged within, and nothing would change that.
The invisible block puzzle was certainly interesting as Hren's hearing had never quite come into play in such an ironic way - the deaf leading the blind, so to speak. Gratefully, no one lost their memories and Hren and Serosa lived another day despite the blind ranger having been magicked across the rest of the obstacle before them.
Now a new challenge laid before the trio of adventurers, one involving mirrors that really, had no bearing on Scarheart whatsoever. That being said, his reflections decided to use auditory lures to get his attention, calls from voices he had wielded many times over his life. Thousands of his past existences all fluttered about the solid-silver tapestries. It was hard to truly grasp the challenge for the sightless man, but when Cassandra noted that she believed she had found the proper mirror, Scarheart approached to listen to his own reflection there.
"Ahh, Hren! It has been such a long time since you and I had a talk - do you even remember me old chap?" Scarheart tipped his head, a funny sense of recognition shooting through his memories. "Aha! So you do remember me. I was a pioneer, an explorer! The first man to charter a ship to the Misted Isles! The first man to swim across the Darkened Channel! The first man to bed Queen Lisarra Tayos." The reflection continued to wink though Hren could not see it.
"Cassandra, I'm not so sure this is the right passage..." It was honestly too late to stop her, so the voice continued. "Oh don't say that! You know I was the best life you've ever lived! Without me... you would have -never- found your wife, had your children, raised a family based on principle and integrity! Without me... you would have never discovered a sense of heroism! You owe me, well, everything!"
Scarheart rolled his eyes at the arrogance of the strange reflection before realizing he was kinda that arrogant himself. Hell, the reflection was probably right. "Oh to Hell with it, I'm tired of riddles." Hren stepped through the mirror without another moment's hesitation.
Raferties' reflections... all looked the same. All of them reminded him of a different passage from his doctrine and truthfully, without Cassandra's help, it wouldn't have been a quick journey. In fact, within the mirror in question, Raferties' reflection was simply nodding in agreement with it being the correct answer.
The Lorekeeper gave a smile and stepped through... ____________________________________________________________________________________
On the other side of the glass portal was a brand new world, or so it would seem. A glass floor allowed the trio to look downward into infinite darkness illuminated by sparse white flickers, like a starry night that gave the illusion of falling into it. The walls were solid white and glowing with ethereal gloom, a pale-green mist clinging to the structure as a whole almost made the castle feel as though it were a spirit, here from another realm - which it just may have been.
Above, the ceiling was a map of blue spirals and explosions of blue shades and hues, creating a galaxy. Across the room was a simple throne made of sharpened, black glass. No thing and no one sat upon the throne, and instead, a simple scepter laid against the left arm of the grandiose chair. Ominously, a masculine voice echoed from everywhere at once, reverberating intensely at the lack of exits to this chamber.
"So long ago, blind one, you cost me everything I held dear, and now that I've seen how you treat these two, my time for vengeance draws near! My body slain by mighty steel, by an army that you led, so now this is who I am, my worthless mortal coil shed. I am the stone, I am the mortar, I am everything you feel, and if you sacrifice yourself, an exit to your friends I'll reveal."
Scarheart frowned. ♫ "How do we defeat an enemy was cannot even find? If he is but a castle with a sorcerer's mind? Perhaps it best I face my past, give you two freedom at long last." ♫
Though he couldn't see their exact expressions, he could feel the sudden presence of their scowls upon him. ♫ "Scarheart, you fool, I'd no sooner give you to this keep, than I would inside a volcano sleep. We're in this to the end, for that's how we began, and if a solution isn't clear, then we'll make our own my Master." ♫
Raferties couldn't help but chuckle at the slip of tongue, so to speak, but added in his own refrain. ♫ "Yes you see Scarheart, stuck with us thou art, and while the coward dares not show his face, we will cleanse his spirit from this place!" ♫ The angel then began a chant in that sacred tongue of the heavens, golden magic pouring like musical notes from every aspect of him and beginning to sink into the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.
"Hah! You think it shall be such an easy thing? Let's see how well you chant that spell of yours on broken wing!" Abruptly, the walls churned and spun into circular passages allowing a horde of enemies to be seen. Each one a walking abomination of life that Hren could recognize by the sound of their armor alone. The soldiers that perished here so long ago, by the hundreds, stood in wait. As soon as the portals were open, they drew rusting steel and charged the room.
Scarheart snatched his glaive once again from his back and moved to one side, feet planting against the glass as he began to swirl the bladed weapon in a series of whirls with sudden jerks and thrusts designed to catch his opponent off-guard and keep them from passing a much larger space than he would have otherwise occupied.
Cassandra jerked her head to the opposite side and quickly ran through her knowledge of ice and the practice of her magic. No words were to be spoken. Instead, her grey flesh began to turn into a frosty blue powder as the element of water and ice coursed through her veins. Starting with the edges of the portal, she close the circular exit with a barrier of solid ice, several inches thick. She continued to focus on the wall of frost while singing: ♫ "Though my ice is strong, it will not keep them at bay for long, we must protect Raferties until he can finish his unmaking song!" ♫
Raferties nodded and picked up the pace, forcing the magic to flow from him that much faster. Like sunlight itself, the ancient angelic words illuminated the place and seared the flesh of the undead who dared get too close, but it was not enough to sundered them to dust like the previous assailants in the basement. Instead, it would be up to Hren to handle those who were loosened into the room...
____________________________________________________________________________________ Music Challenge Song: Unforgiven III
1529 Words
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Raferties
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Oct 25 2015, 06:08 PM
Post #27
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For a moment, appearing over the celestial-like floor was a bit disorientating to Raferties, to the point that he actually spread his wings for a sense of balance. The sight of the walls, with their clinging mist, however, solidly grounded the angel again and filled him with the strongest sense of foreboding that he'd felt since entering this castle. A quick glance at the ceiling confirmed that it was no starmap that he knew, though pretty despite the setting. The throne, however, when he saw it immediately captured his attention in the way that a demon might have caught Keldos' attention.
Though empty, the Lorekeeper sensed that the throne was center point of a very deadly threat.
Before he could murmur any warning to his companions, the voice issued forth causing Raferties' staff to snap up into his hands. The pure evil in that voice rattled through the angel like a wicked drum, and clarified for him that through this entire journey this was more than likely their previously unknown foe, an old enemy of Scarheart's it seemed. Well, an enemy of one of his friends was an enemy of the Lorekeeper's himself.
The words spilled easily from his lips, Solarian syllables of an ancient ritual even to the world of his origin. It would have been more potent had the Lorekeeper known the name of their enemy, or at the very least what he had become in undeath, but even without that information it was normally a powerful enough rite to drive even master vampires back to their coffins for eternity.
Then the Voice spoke once more, challenging his words and spell and even throwing back some of the power, shrugging it aside like nothing and unleashing new enemies upon them! Raferties was almost stunned, and only the fact that he was well versed (no pun intended) in multitasking kept him from misspeaking and fumbling the spell altogether! Scarheart to one side, Cassandra to the other, both working to defend him while he worked his holy words to wave sunlight and purity into his weapon. He had only a few moments to see what they were doing, Cassandra blocking off further enemies while Scarheart gave a display of combative prowess that was truly admirable (mental note: Keldos would be quite interested in speaking to the woodsman; he was always interested in learning new battle styles) before he was forced to jerk to the side as one of the undead, frustrated (if such a thing could feel the emotion) at being unable to reach the angel and instead flung a spear at him. It came very close to fulfilling the Voice's promise of a broken wing, or in this case pierced wing, but only nipped a feather instead. The press, even with just the ones that had entered before Cassandra had invoked her spell, would quickly become overwhelming should things remain at the status quo.
The Lorekeeper's mind worked at a pace to race his rapidly moving lips as he sang the words as quickly as he dared, looking for a solution. The seeking, radiant beams were scorching them, but even at the strongest he could muster weren't strong enough to destroy them. Cassandra's magic might be able to best them, but she needed to concentrate on the wall or the undead hammering at the other side would shatter it; already there were a few chips flying. Scarheart was swinging and striking with all the speed he could muster, but they had already been through so much. He was going to tire long before the unresting undead...
Wait! Tired! The word sparked a concept that jumped from one place to another in Raferties' mind, memory and intuition weaving together until he was sure it would work. Mid-spell song he suddenly shifted his words. These would still hold the ring of celestial verse, but the form would be utterly different and in truth utterly alien to him.
But not to Belial.
Bound soul to soul, Raferties drew on that connection now, pulling verses and runes to mind from another heavenly realm altogether and his devil's knowledge to take the groundwork of what he had already laid down and enhance it beyond what it had been. His movements changed as well: whereas before he had been mostly still aside from watching the approach of the undead and bracing to evade, now he took his staff in hand and began to swirl it through the air, the tip lighting with radiant flames and tracing patterns into the air. The after-trails made by his actions lingered eventually becoming golden sigils as large as the Lorekeeper himself was tall, shooting up to land near the ceiling on one wall. Another rune followed, then two more in rapid succession, putting the three friends at the crux of a compass, a sparking circle of golden lightning connecting all of the four and ringing the battlefield. A loudly sung command, and the runes emitted brilliant bursts of holy fire that sought out the undead and torched them, but it was only half of what Raferties intended to do.
For a few bars more, he reverted to his own Solarian tongue, movements now graceful as he danced away from a series of blows, then switching again to the other language, batting away slashing blades even as another rune was marked in the air, this time by one hand before he pointed and sent it to its intended target, as for a moment all music and song stopped with his cry -
"Give my truth and my wrath to the valiant warrior!"
The rune landed solidly on Scarheart's chest.
Instantly the blind woodsman ignited with radiant light that licked off him in tongues of flame. Raferties revulsion at the presence of the undead, all his holy power and strength and even more important his speed flooded into Scarheart's body, both banishing exhaustion and pain from wounds and sending him hurtling into the throng of undead, his first swing sending them arcing away from him as if they had been struck by a giant! The next pass scattered more, then a thunderous impact on the ground ignited all of them within a wide radius. These panicked, trying to flee from the suddenly heaven-empowered combatant, only to spread the fire to their fellows. Cassandra, however, need not fear these flames as when one passed by, it felt as cool as a crisp mountain spring to the icy djinn. The runes on the walls sent forth another burst, and with a final cry Scarheart decimated the last of the undead menace. As the power left the man, the sigils faded and between the pair Raferties collapsed to a knee, clutching at his staff for support against utterly falling over to the ground, gasping for breath with eyes closed and body almost feverishly hot to the touch. But any concern would be waved away by the angel as he forced himself to stand, clearly putting most of his weight on his staff.
"Is... is over?"
For all of three heartbeats, it seemed it might be. Then their hopes shattered with a single scream:
"NOT HARDLY!"
((Word count 1198, Haunted Sites: Scream, Very Superstitious: Circle))
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Note: Until further stated, Scarheart, Belial, and Cassandra have standing permission to powerplay Raferties or Anari. Raferties and his Shinies ~~Anari and her Shinies~~ Keldos and his Shinies~~Cobalt and her Shinies~~Taki and her Shinies~~Kemori and his Shinies
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Deleted User
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Oct 29 2015, 07:13 PM
Post #28
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Deleted User
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Had this been another time, the castle would have been a sight to see, honestly. It was a beautiful room, Cassandra thought, and the way the floor reflected its counterpart like a mirror was something that the Djinn briefly considered imitating in their cabin when they rebuilt it... but then again, the glass would become incredibly scuffed and destroyed with Elsharaz's paws, so perhaps wood was better.
It could be reiterated what Cassandra thought and did during the next number of minutes of the unsettling wave of undeath that followed their entrance to the chamber, but you already essentially, know what happened, don't you?
With the dead lying in piles around their feet, the portal finally receiving little press from the opposing side, Raferties holding himself up on his staff, and Scarheart covered with splattered remnants from his epic display of martial prowess, Cassandra brush a bit of mist from her forehead, waiting the brief moments for some form of sign.
"Is... it over?"
The response was obvious and cold, none of them having honestly expected to gain some form of reprieve from the battle before them. "NOT HARDLY!"
Cassandra's eyes narrowed and she waved a hand at her two comrades. "The end is near, yet we've work to do; when all is clear, I'll return to you." She knew that there was little she could do to explain her next actions... and there was a chance of them disagreeing. However, with the ritual Raferties had been working on having little chance of working with his energy so expended, this was the only thing the Djinn could think of to do.
Stalking straight up to the throne before them all, Cassandra drew a knife from thin air, slicing her palm to allow a small stream of blood to trickle down to her wrist. As she reached the embellished seat, she caused the knife to vanish to whence it came, and spoke in words foreign to the others, though she spoke clear afterwards.
"Show yourself to me, you wicked beast, your inner soul and mind. Hidden no more, you shant remain where my magic can not find."
As her words reached Scarheart and Raferties' ears, it was too late for them to alter any aspect of the spell as suddenly Cassandra was gone from their sight, the chamber empty before them.
Where Cassandra went was somewhere she honestly was unnerved to go: the castle. No, not the castle they had already been within. She entered the walls, the stone, and the soul of the castle - the place that the Voice was hiding. Looking around in the room she arrived in, she stood in a world that appeared like a painting, though real, with water colored aspects surrounding her. Shuddering, she noticed that she was in the same glass chamber as before, but her two friends were not to be seen. Instead, there was a dark figure lounging in the throne, slowly tapping his elongated, gaunt fingers. He was the thing of shadows, as though a man perhaps was somewhere underneath the cloak, some of the darkness even acting on its own as it would occasionally snake out in tendrils from where his feet would be. His face was shielded by a hood that added to the same illusion of inky blackness.
"Such an interesting development to see you here. What makes you think you can best me, my dear? You are as trapped as I happen to be... why are you fighting beside them and not me?"
Cassandra frowned, slowly stepping in an arc, keeping him always ahead of her. The surrounding was his mind, so technically he ruled within it more than he would even in the castle itself. She didn't want to take any chances with him surprising her with his capabilities. "You and I aren't trapped the same and I will not play your silly game. My Master is your enemy and so you are mine, you threaten the home I have come to find. He treats me as an equal whereas you should be deceased. Reveal yourself, let this end so your soul may be released." Laughing softly, she enveloped her hand with a thin layer of dripping magic. "I doubt my words will sway what common sense you contain, but perhaps my magic will force you from this artistic domain."
Eyes flaring with a swirl of light, the figure stood, towering much larger than it should have been capable of as the darkness lashed across the floor as though its essence was attacking her shadow. "You think you're free of his every whim? Able to live and breathe so free? You will do what pleases him, his niceness is not what it seems. He is only so polite to you because he knows it works. He will ask of you, and you will follow him upon knee jerk." Without missing a beat, he edged closer, his figure looming over the Djinn as the water colored stars seemed to move and circle them. She barely had even noticed she had stopped moving, frozen in place by the realization and confusion of his words.
Was it true? Could it be true? Could he only be treating her so wonderfully so he would manage to get exactly as he wanted without using the wishes?
"You are a prisoner, as much as me, his actions so blinding, you can not see. Help me be free of this dreaded curse, stand by me in the final verse. You can be relieved of this eternal chain, let's help each other so no binds remain. You have lived enough in this kind of capture, don't you deserve a final rapture?"
Cassandra closed her eyes briefly, her mind filling with the turmoil, the memories of pain through all of the centuries of life, the darkness she was forced the do... the manipulation and betrayal. "You may be right, perhaps he uses me. I have grown so close that I have refused to see. I'm not sure what I can do, you are so strong, it seems I'm useless to you."
He laughed, a hand reaching low to touch the side of her face in almost a comforting manner. "He does not deserve your trust or magic and of course his death will be most tragic, but convince them to simply give in, don't fight. Tell him that the sacrifice is right."
Cassandra took a deep breath, images of her past flashing through her mind... then images of her time since arriving in Teragaia. Comparing them, trying to find the flaws in what her current Master had done.
"I tire of your ignorant game, your attempts to make my opinion swayed. You know little of my thoughts and hopes and I loathe you for trying to make my mind frayed. So locked inside this castle no more, I plan to shatter every door, every window broken, no shadows to hide, your mind will find no hole to reside. All I needed was to get quite close, so I hope you don't mind that I've been so verbose. A drop of your essence, be it shadow or blood, and simple as that, your world is undone."
As she spoke, the same blade that had sliced her own flesh slipped out and carved a fragment of the black that surrounded the entity before her. Her eyes narrowed and she clutched it tight in her fist, taking the piece in through her cut and smiling up at the figure. "From your prison, you shall finally be free. I hope Hell welcomes you successfully."
Enraged, the figure lunged towards her, those shadow claws easily wrapping around Cassandra's throat as he lifted her off the ground, his eyes flaring bright. "You dare to take my power, girl, your body can't contain! The amount of magic that fills me deep is more than you can sustain!" He roared, tightening his grip at first, then several bits of shadow solidified, breaking off, and fell to the ground, shattering. The water color floor suddenly cracked, the walls melting and deteriorating before his eyes. "What did you do, you stupid witch? What magic did you cast? Undo your hex before this fades or my grip I shall hold fast."
Cassandra reached up to hold onto the figure's arm to attempt to not choke quite as quickly, gasping for her words. "Your fate is sealed, you wretched fiend, an all your creations will tear at the seams."
More fragments of him hit the floor, the walls dripping in pools of paint and oils as he suddenly let out a scream and Cassandra knew it was the right time to return. Willing herself to be beside Scarheart, she vanished from the figure's hand as he exploded into shards of darkness.
To Scarheart and Raferties, mere moments had passed as Cassandra appeared in a blast of ice that shot from her in a near dangerous form. Black ice dripped from her body as the taint from the figure had granted her power, the color showing its proverbial roots and giving an illusory mask that skewed her visage from her allies. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled a puff of frost before speaking and glancing around.
"I think it is done. I think he is gone. But if all is finished, why do I still speak in song..?"
______________________________ Word Count :: 1543 Music Playlist Challenge :: Welcome Home Sanitarium Treasures :: mirror Autumn Traditions :: black Trick or Treat! :: mask
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Oct 31 2015, 09:33 PM
Post #29
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Scarheart slowly looked up from his bundle of chains, the rusted iron wrapping around his wrists, back, waist, legs, and ankles, making a tangle of constraint around his deteriorating form. He heard the screams from the townsfolk; women, children, and the elderly, all begging for their lives as the Emperor's men slaughtered them by the thousands.
Just three months ago, Hren knelt before Emperor Oltharis amongst the Grand Pillars of Peace in the palace's gardens. Scarheart, along with 2 other legendary warriors, had been called forth for a mission of great importance. The emperor and his generals proceeded to explain how a great uprising of evil had been staging itself in the belly of the jewel of his empire. He further detailed how so much gold and infinite gems beyond all imagination would be paid to those who helped drive out this evil.
The three heroes agreed to lead three separate armies of the Emperor's men, while the emperor's general moved an army along the northern cliffs to cut off any retreat the diseased people may have as an option. That being said, Scarheart set out with his 5000 soldiers.
Encircled by a beautiful forest of bright, blossoming trees, the Jewel of Oltharis' Empire was just that - a gemstone amongst a backdrop of mountains and inhospitable terrain. Still, the 15,000 soldiers and three legendary heroes marched across the desolate terrain and entered the forests surrounding Tolan'tha. They waited for nightfall before deciding to scout the town for possible defenses.
Things were not as had been anticipated. The people were not sick, as the Emperor had described. They were not perverted or practicing dark arts. Two days were spent in secret trying to figure out exactly what the corruption of the city was, until the conclusion fell upon the generals that the Emperor had been lying, and he had planned on the slaughter of an innocent town.
The other two heroes, when confronted by the true General, were quickly bought and readily decided that slaughter was worth the price. Scarheart, however, wished to wash his hands of it. That would not be allowed and the blind ranger would find himself in stocks and chains inside the city... _____________________________________________________________________________________
Scarheart leaned against the wall nearby, trying his best to hone in on Cassandra's voice as the onslaught of foes finally ended. His mind was racing, the plethora of small wounds stinging beyond comprehension kept him barely able to even realize she had left, albeit briefly.
Slowly, he regained his feet and staggered toward the center of the room, a smile finally taking his face until he heard Cassandra continue to sing in rhyme. Cautiously, he listened more keenly on his surroundings, trying to figure out exactly what had happened then, to lead Cassandra to believe she had vanquished the Lord of the Castle.
Then, as abruptly as they had appeared in the room, the flooring beneath them would become nothingness and the trio would be sent hurtling downward into the 'night sky.' Wings would not work, magic would be found useless, and the distance was going to be far much for any chance of survival. Seconds passed, though they seemed like an eternity, the whole while each letting loose a howl of fright echoing into the beyond, before the triad of heroes fell against a hard, stone flooring.
Cassandra and Raferties would now see an eternally long and wide black flooring, a marble pattern of white alternating into the distance as far as the single lantern floating in the center of the room would allow. The simple, black-iron device would just hovering, emitting a warm yet eerie blue glow.
"How amusing, child, that you thought you could win? When an entire army failed to do so, led by your Master Hren. So long ago, the memory drown out by many more, that I doubt Scarheart here would remember how hard he failed before."
On the other side of the room, just behind the lantern, appeared a tall and gaunt man, as plain as flesh and day. Scarheart instantly recalled the incident from before; the army leading the charge into the castle of a mad wizard. He remembered the dead bodies lying about all around. He even recalled the wound that... killed him.
"That's right, Hren. I killed you. And I also brought you back, with that lovely curse of yours. I made you immortal, then simply waited until the perfect moment. You see, I made the curse, I can unmake it as well!" Arcane words began to flow from the fingertips of the wizard, wrapping around him like a defensive barrier before they launched across the room, not even giving Scarheart a chance to react or speak.
"As for the two of you, I'll decide later. I'm done with you - you may leave." His other hand began to weave an exit to the castle, a clearly visible portal off to one side that revealed the forest awaiting outside. Go now, before I change my mind.
The quick-witted Cassandra spoke up before even taking a step. "I cannot. Since you are now slaying my master, I belong to you, great Wizard. To leave would be futile." In truth, the ancient wizard, so focused on vengeance, had not thought about what he could -gain- by killing his tortured toy. Slowly, his face twisted into a smile.
Cassandra touched her lips, realizing the music was gone, her voice slipping back into its normal composure. Raferties gripped tightly to his staff and, in the distraction, made a dash across the room toward Hren, in an attempt to rip him free of the bright green magic that now wracked Scarheart with intense amounts of pain.
"Come Scarheart, we must go, now is the only chance we'll know!" Raferties was still singing and speaking in rhyme, though none but the Wizard truly knew why. With a wave of said-wizard's hand, a blast of black and red necromantic magic washed over Raferties, weakening every muscle in his body until he slumped to the ground barely able to so much as speak, let alone pull or move.
"Angelic fool, I gave you the chance to leave, though I see now, I shall simply have to snuff out your immortality as well!" Cassandra took a deep breath as yet another blast of that black and red energy made its way through the air. It was her only chance, and it had to be perfect. She lunged as hard as she could across the darkened floor, forming a hand-sized disc of frost. The ice solidified quickly and made a highly reflective surface, just in time for her dive to bring the ice mirror and that beam of darkness in contact with one another.
The magic ricocheted right back at the wizard, instantly flensing the spell caster. There was a deathly scream that quickly released Hren from the grip of magic, though he was greatly weakened for it. The castle began to shake and the creature from another world began to glow, as cracks of magic began to make their way to the surface of his muscled form.
"Quickly Scarheart, Cassandra to, through that portal is what we must do! The fiend will close it soon, to be certain, back to our world we go, through reality's curtain!" Cassandra pulled herself to her feet, and the two helped Hren stagger to his. It was a race for the finish as the Wizard, damaged and dying as he was, began to hurl blasts of magic everywhere he could, one solid blow easily capable of ending any of their lives, or closing the portal before them.
Serosa sent streams of fire lashing through the air, bright and distracting, absorbing many of the beams of awful energy, and Elsharaz' bark would be unmatched in its ability to disrupt a spellcaster. With a long dive, the heroes dove through the portal appearing in the clearing once again. Several dozens of feet away from the castle, four of the five looked on as the portal began to swell and envelop the castle before imploding violently, sending more stone, wood, and debris flying in every direction.
All that remained, was the scar on the forest and the land in which the castle had once sat. A distant scream, though the words could not be made out, echoed throughout the trees, driving away all of the birds and nearby animals.
"Now... it is over..." Scarheart struggled to his feet to lean against a tree and simply smell the air returning to normal - the air of freedom once again, though by the paleness in his complexion, it wouldn't take a healer to know he had lost a lot of blood, or remembered something awful and terrible, or both.
"Do you think I'm mortal again?" He looked to Raferties and Cassandra, two creatures who would definitely know immortality if they had ever seen it. However, it was impossible to tell, and the silence told Hren all he needed to know.
"Then I suppose I'll have to find out the hard way, no? By living life to its fullest... again." _____________________________________________________________________________________ Word Challenge: Howl (500), Pattern (700), Lantern (900) 1520 Words
Music Playlist Challenge - Master of Puppets
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Deleted User
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Nov 1 2015, 09:23 PM
Post #30
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Deleted User
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Thinking that her task had been complete, there obviously was an air of confidence behind Cassandra's reappearance before her compatriots. She had no idea that her 'mission' had been so unsuccessful until her words spun into a now-familiar rhyme scheme and caused her happiness to drop immediately.
And then, the floor bottomed out, shattering to allow their quick descent to an apparent secondary level to the castle's throne room. As they all landed, gazing around the chamber, seeing the lone lantern that produced the minuscule amount of light for their perceptive pleasure, Cassandra could feel her stomach bottom out at the words that reverberated through their ears. Then, seeing the figure revealed for what he truly was, she could taste bile rising in her mouth.
"How amusing, child, that you thought you could win? When an entire army failed to do so, led by your Master Hren. So long ago, the memory drown out by many more, that I doubt Scarheart here would remember how hard he failed before."
If he spoke true, he was the cause of the Hell that Scarheart had been through all the years... yet he was also the cause of the happiness, as well. Immortality was a give and take with that kind of thing, unfortunately.
But, to Cassandra, no matter the amount of power that an individual held... he was not a King until he proved himself worthy of such a title and this cretin was far from deserving.
So she had a plan to destroy him... it was dangerous and potentially deadly, but as the events unfolded before her eyes and she knew what was otherwise going to happen to her Master, she felt that the risk was necessary. When the wizard spoke of her and Raferties leaving, her attention snapped back to the forefront.
"I cannot. Since you are now slaying my master, I belong to you, great Wizard. To leave would be futile."
Seeing that he took the bait, the rest of the plan fell into place, though the amount of time that it took to get into an appropriate position made her stomach churn. Finally, she did correct her placement, and the magic rebound into the wizard, himself, starting his annihilation.
As the cracks began to form on the wizard, the end of his existence near, Cassandra only hoped that her efforts had not been in vain; that Scarheart had managed to not be dwindled away in power from the prolonged spell cast upon him.
The trio (with their companions) rushed out, collapsing on the grass and all that filled Cassandra's mind was relief of the end of the wizard's reign. She vaguely could hear her Master speaking to the two of them, and turned her head to listen more distinctly to his inquiry. Cassandra bit her lip, not wanting to tell him a lie, to say that she knew he was immortal still, to give him false hope or even the opposite? Which answer could he have been hoping for? Did he want to be 'normal' or did he hope to still be incapable of death?
A part of her was thankful that he took her silence as an answer, so she didn't have to disappoint him. "I'm sorry for all the trouble that you've gotten into because of this wish, Raferties.. it has been wonderful to have met you, but I do apologize for the injuries you've received." Cassandra would sigh and, rather boldly, would hug Raferties briefly. "We couldn't have gotten out of there without you. Thank you."
The group of them spoke briefly between each other, but it was apparent that they were all exhausted and deeply desiring rest, though not out of rudeness. With a final farewell, they eventually parted ways with Raferties quickly returning to his mate, with the promise that they would all meet each other again, and Cassandra vanishing from sight in an instant. You see, due to the events, the Djinn found herself holing herself up in her flask for a brief amount of time. Scarheart's house was demolished, crushed utterly by the falling castle that her chaotic magic had summoned, leaving him with being forced to make search through the remnants of his home, then making a camp so he would be able to start anew the next day.
Suffice it to say, there was a fragment of Cassandra that felt to blame for taking everything from her new Master, even though it was accidental and not even her 'fault'. She had see the downfall of many Lords and Ladies, Kings and power-hungry merchants.. but this was one instance that the destruction of even such a villain had managed to impact her in the aftermath. Normally, their errors ended with her returning to her flask and awaiting her next Master. This time, she had to see it before her very eyes and see the repercussion of her magic. Atop of that, she for the first time in centuries... felt remorse for the person being affected. This was the most unsettling part of her overwhelming emotions.
As night fell upon her Master, he would find her appearing at his camp - the only means of a 'bed' that he could have until a new house was constructed. He had a bedroll that he had pulled from the wreckage of the house, though there looked as though there were a couple of new holes in it, and there was a deceased coney that had yet to be skinned that was hanging from a nearby tree. Appearing at his side, the Djinn was obviously a bit bashful, though she took a deep breath and spoke quickly before he could say anything to dissuade her.
"I know that I can't control it and I am pretty sure that by this point, I don't need to remind you about the wishes that you speak... and I can't even begin to understand everything that I heard or saw while we were in that castle. I don't think I can start to claim to know you better, but maybe I have seen in through a window of your soul and I want to tell you that I don't blame you for the choice you almost made. I thought that maybe we could know each other without the titles of Master and Djinn... and without the force of a wish gone wrong."
Waving her hand, an array of food would be produced before them, creating a warm, hearty meal for them of some meats, potatoes, vegetables, and a desert of a cranberry pie. "But Scarheart? Whether you are immortal still or bleed as easily as the next man..? You are no different inside than before. You still have a heart of gold, from what I've seen. No amount of magic can or will ever change that about you."
The two ate, relaxing, and spending the rest of the time avoiding talking about anything involving wishes, or the wizard that had tormented them all. Near the end, Cassandra handed a package to him, lumpy, but beautifully wrapped (with magic).
At the same time, Raferties would find on his pillow a similar package. When they would both open their respective presents, there would be a small statuette. They would be identical to each other (unbeknownst to the individuals, obviously), with a familiar trio of heroes carved atop a white marble base. Raferties would be constructed of a golden marble with blue streamers lacing through it, his staff upraised towards an invisible sun to shed light upon the group. Scarheart would be made of a pure white marble, his glaive looking as though it were about to spin right off of the statue. Finally, Cassandra was a blue marble with black streamers throughout, a hand extended towards each of her two allies on either side. Behind them, as a silhouette, was the castle in a crumbling heap of destruction. A reminder of what they had accomplished together. At the bottom, all their companions would be carved delicately circling the base. An inscription on the front of the base would simply read, "A wish gone wrong, yet friends were found, A King was crushed by their joined sound." In Raferties' package, he would find a handwritten note that would simply read, 'Thank you' in a feminine handwriting.
To Scarheart, Cassandra would smile and hesitantly point out the detail work as his fingers would brush over the curves and edges of the sculpture. "Magic is really something, huh? I could never do what you do with your hands... but I thought maybe this would help us remember outwardly, so maybe we don't always have to remember everything so deep in our minds."
For a couple of moments, the two sat there together, Cassandra ridding the camp of their empty plates and leaving them for a random tavern owner to deal with. Leaning back, Cassandra looked up at the stars beginning to peak out of the night sky and started humming softly to herself, then murmuring aloud, "I wish I may.. I wish I might... have the wish I wish tonight..." She would shake her head, closing her eyes with a soft sigh. "I always thought that was such an odd rhyme. Scarheart?"
She opened her eyes to star at his sightless face. "Thank you for being my Master."
__________________________ Word Count :: 1535 Playlist Challenge :: King Nothing Treasures :: statuette Autumn Traditions :: cranberry Trick or Treat! :: lantern
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