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| Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - Ashes of Eden |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets         Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4874 days Last activity: 4390 days |
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| Her eyes opened slowly. Even though she was awake she was not aware of her surroundings. Her eyes saw nothing, her ears and nose detected neither sound nor scent. She could not feel the cushion of hay beneath her weary body, nor could she taste the dust in the air.
Her sight was dominated by a single image, that of a flame flickering in a sea of darkness. A flame as black as night itself, and hotter than all the lava pools of the underworld. She blinked, and suddenly all her senses came alive at once, almost overwhelming her with the rush of input. She could taste and smell the dusty air, she could feel the pieces of hay poking uncomfortably through her clothes, and the ever present pain she’d learned to live with. Her ears were assaulted by the sounds of creaking wood and the clinking of metal and plodding hoof beats. Her eyes finally took in the wagon around her. Turning her head to the front of the wagon she saw the old man that had offered a ride to the nearest town. How long ago was that? she thought. One day? Two? More? Seeing the questions as unsolvable for the moment she switched directions in her thoughts. It was that dream again. Why? Every night it’s the same damn dream. Always the same, never changing in any way. “Oh, yer awake now are ye?” The voice broke into her musing, scattering her thoughts like a startled flock of birds. She frowned slightly in irritation as the thread of her thought slipped away from her. “I was jes beginnin’ to wonder when ye’d finally wake,” the old man continued from his spot on the drivers box. “It’s nearly high sun.” He lifted a cloth wrapped bundle from the seat next to him and held it back towards her. “Thought ye might be gettin’ hungry,” he said. Reaching out she took the bundle without a word of thanks, but she patted his hand once as she did so to show her gratitude. Opening the bundle she found a chunk of bread, a large piece of cheese, and, of all things, an apple. Before she could do anything else he spoke again. “Don’t worry about the fruit. We passed by a tree growing by the side of some blokes house a few miles back.” He turned in his seat to look back at her and closed one watery blue eye in a wink. “I stopped and picked me some.” She smiled. Not very noticeably but there was a small smile there nonetheless. As he turned back to the front she picked up the bread in one hand and the cheese in the other and started to eat as her stomach chose that moment to inform her that she’d not eaten in some time by rumbling loudly. She made short work of the bread and cheese and soon, only the apple was left. Considering for a moment she hefted the large piece of ripe fruit in one hand. Coming to a decision she dropped the apple into one of her black coats many deep pockets. Grabbing her pack she scrambled to her feet in the swaying wagon and climbed into the drivers box next to the old man where she set one hand on his. He gave a gentle tug on the reigns and the horses hitched to the small wagon came to a stop. “Yeah?” She pointed at one of the horses, a questioning look in her large, expressive, grey eyes. He turned to look towards the horses but she turned his head back to her with one slim hand on his cheek. Reaching into another of her pockets she pointed again towards the horses and then brought her hand back to reveal four gold coins glittering in the early morning sunlight. She grabbed his hand and dropped the heavy coins one at a time into his palm. He looked blankly at the fat coins in his hand for a moment before looking back up at her. She nervously licked her lips and, for the first time in the three days he’d known her, opened her mouth to speak. “Buy… horse..?” she asked slowly, wincing in pain and rubbing the front of her throat through the light scarf she wore with one hand at every word. Her voice was a dry rasp, but he could tell that it once might have been a beautiful sound to hear. He looked back and forth from the coins in his hand to the young girl sitting in front of him. He smiled. Taking her hand he set the coins back in her palm and folded her fingers closed over the coins. “No child,” he murmured softly. “Ye don’ have te pay me.” He climbed down off the wagon and began unhitching one of the horses. She smiled as she watched him work and while his back was turned she set the coins on the seat next to her. Lifting her pack she leapt off the wagon, her long coat streaming out behind her to reveal the tight fitting black shirt and trousers she wore underneath and the long sword hanging from her right hip. She landed heavily on her feet and swept the nearly floor length, wrist thick braid of her hair back over her shoulder. By the time the old man turned around her coat had settled again and her body was once again hidden within its shadows. He led the light grey roan over to her. “This is Cloud,” he said by way of introduction. “Will ye be alright ridin’ ‘im bareback?” he asked. She merely smiled, more broadly this time, and nodded her head as she held out her hand for the horse to sniff. The large creature snuffled at her hand for a moment before stepping forward and laying his head on her shoulder, sighing contentedly as she started using her fingernails to scratch the side of his head and ears. The old man chuckled. “Looks like he likes ye,” he said as she stepped away from the horse. She favored him with another smile, and then put her arms through the straps of her pack. The brown leather was well worn, but also well cared for, its sides bulged from within by its contents and several pockets jingled as she swung it around onto her back. She stood next to the horse for a moment before turning to face the old man. Running up to him she wrapped her arms around him in a quick embrace and thanked him with a peck of her lips against his weathered cheek before she turned and ran back to Cloud. Swinging herself up onto his back she gripped his mane tightly in her two fists and thumped the heels of her boots into his flanks. “Hey,” the old man shouted after her. “What’s yer name?” She was rapidly getting further away from him and in his age his eyes could barely track her at that distance… but he thought he heard that dry rasp floating back to him on the wind. He thought he heard a single word. “Tsun.” |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable  Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 95 days Last activity: 95 days |
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| Yes, please say that you are working on this again or I will have to kick you. You do not want me to do that. Argh, the lack of indentation makes this difficult to read, I wish we could do something about that. | |||
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4874 days Last activity: 4390 days |
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| Why kick the pockets? That's mean. | |||
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Makura Since: 01-22-05 From: The restaurant at the end of the universe.... Since last post: 5670 days Last activity: 4935 days |
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| I'm no longer going to respond to Sarah. I will be...a single word...
"Tsun." *faints dramatically* |
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Pockets Werewolf pockets Since: 10-20-04 Since last post: 4874 days Last activity: 4390 days |
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| Booted footsteps sounded loudly off of the marble floor, echoing down the stone hallways of the palace. A large figure, cloaked in shadow made its way down the dark passageways. The figure seemed to blur at times as it passed through areas of deeper shadow and would then reappear further down the hallway.
Finally the figure reached a large, ornately carved set of double doors. The thick, solid bronze doors were covered in intricate drawings of a massive battle. If one were to stand long enough and watch the images depicted would come alive and a great war would be waged silently within the metal as soldier tore soldier apart with sword and axe and lightning rained from the sky to destroy scores of men in an instant, leaving nothing but a smoking crater behind. Raising one large fist the figure smashed its hand against the door repeatedly, the sound reverberating through the stone floor beneath its boots as if a mighty bell had just been struck a massive blow. The tone echoed throughout the compound for several minutes before finally fading away to silence. A moment after the sound had fully faded into nothingness the doors swung silently open of their own accord. Once there was enough space for the figure to squeeze through it did so, striding quickly and purposefully into the chamber beyond. It came to a stop several dozen feet from a large stone dais and dropped to one knee, right hand held over its heart, left fist pressed to the ground. Two enormous thrones of stone sat on the dais and a withered old man occupied one. His hair was a brilliant silver in color and hung down his back in waves that cascaded over the arms of his throne to fall to the floor, barely brushing the smoothly polished black marble. “My Lord,” the figure said in a deep, rumbling and obviously masculine tone. “We believe we may have found the girl you seek.” The question came a moment later, but not from the old mans mouth as his lips never moved. Instead the dry, whispered question seemed to assault the kneeling man from out of the darkness surrounding him, from all sides at once. “Where is she?” it asked. “Intelligence shows that she was driven from her home town approximately twenty years ago. They began to fear and detest her when she reached her fortieth spring yet still appeared as if she were nineteen or twenty years of age.” “That does not answer my question warrior,” the voice whispered around him, disapproval clearly evident in its tone. “My apologies my Lord…” “I do not want your apologies,” the voice roared now as the kneeling man felt his eyes start to burn and blood red tears dripped down his cheeks as his masters power began to take hold of him. “I want to know where she is.” “Our intelligence says that she may be approaching the city of Arden to the west. The tracking spell you gave to us has picked up small traces of dark magic moving that way.” The pain behind his eyes continued for a few moments, but he refused to cry out. He’d seen what his master did to those that could not handle a little pain. Eventually the pressure lifted from behind his eyes and the bleeding stopped. Dropping his eyes to the ground he saw some blood fall from his chin where it had gathered. Before it could strike the smooth marble however he caught it in one hand and quickly wiped it off on his shirt. “Very good,” the voice whispered once again. The old man in front of him lifted one spindly arm and pointed a long wrinkled finger with its wickedly curved nail in his direction. A moment later a jet of black flame shot up from the marble in front of him in a column of black fire nearly fifteen feet high. When it faded there remained a small table, a bottle, and a bronze goblet. “Drink,” the voice whispered. Eagerly, the large man leaped forward and snatched up the goblet. Ripping the cork from the neck of the bottle with his teeth he poured the viscous black liquid inside into the goblet. Ignoring the smoke that issued forth from the mouth and the hissing bubbling sound as it started to eat through the metal he raised the goblet to his lips and gulped down the contents. His body began to convulse as the liquid coursed its way through his body. He poured another glass as he began to sweat a thin black liquid that ignited into flame as the air struck it and soon most of his cloak and shirt were merely a memory as he poured again and gulped down his third glass, thus finishing the bottle. He fell to his knees as the liquid continued to course through his body. His waist length black hair began to wave about his head as if he was immersed in water, then, suddenly burst into a three foot long tongue of black fire. His hands began to glow darkly and black balls of fire appeared in his cupped palms. “Release,” the voice whispered into his mind. There was a moment of absolute silence, then a concussion ripped through the air blowing the old mans long hair out behind him and an explosion shattered the silence of the large throne room. When the dust cleared the man was naked, his clothes destroyed by the power that had ripped itself from his body. He knelt in a small crater in the marble and his hair once again fell about his bared shoulders and down his back. Rising to his feet he grinned a feral baring of his teeth, and his eyes were two endless pool of black flame, as if one was staring into the eyes of the Lord of the Dead himself. “Go, Vedil,” the voice whispered as the warrior turned and began to make his way towards the doors. “Find her. Bring her to me. So that I might finally realize my power.” |
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