BlackAndBlueEyes
09-09-13, 04:05 PM
Closed to Tande. Madison still has her right arm for this one, along with the abilities written in her Level 4 profile.
I don't want to be here.
I really, really don't want to be here.
...By the gods, I would give anything not to be here right now.
My boots crunched on dust and rubble as I briskly moved through the ruined stone streets of Amon Lungan. It was dusk when I had arrived by ship to the ancient port city, which appeared like a desolate necropolis upon my approach. The simile is not that far off from the truth; during the Corpse War that nearly pushed the residents of Raiaera into the sea, this city had fallen after a siege that lasted three days and was utterly ransacked by the undead forces of Xem'Zund, may his scattered ashes never reassemble.
After the necromancer met his demise when Minas Teradryn fell, a few of the refugees who had the steel or stupidity for it attempted to retake and resettle the city, picking up the pieces of their lives shattered by the attack. Their attempts had been moderately successful; the main port had been reopened and mostly repaired, at the very least, and cleanup and rebuilding was underway.
I pulled my sifan cloak tighter around me in an effort to keep the evening chill at bay. As I slipped through the darkening streets, two nondescript men huddled in a nearby doorway quieted their conversation long enough to stare at me with no hidden amount of venom until I had passed.
Yep. Totally don't want to be here in Raiaera right now. It's too soon; things haven't quite settled down from the Corpse War, and lately there have been reports that dark elves had begun moving in from the west, taking scraps of land for themselves where they could. A dangerous, dark period in Raiaera's history was still unfolding. So why was I sticking my life on the line and traveling here, when I could be back in Radasanth in the safety of my store?
Why, I was book hunting, of course.
I'll spare you the details of my desired acquisition for the time being, as the details are trivial yet classified--I'm more concerned with the looks that the returning refugees of this city have been giving me as I walk the streets. Their gazes have been as cold as the steel of my weapons, which admittedly were clearly visible as they were strapped to my leg in a series of sheathes that held all six of my throwing daggers. My twin daggers were strapped to the small of my back, and my knuckledusters were snugly tucked away into my pants pockets, ready for quick retrieval. My wires, as always, were wrapped around my biceps and awaiting my mental commands.
I spent an hour and a half wandering the broken streets of Amon Lungan, searching for a place I could rest my head. All around me, ancient elven buildings sat, empty and crumbling. A spire had fallen into the middle of the road, causing me to double back and find another way through the winding streets. As I hurried through town, avoiding eye contact with any of the seemingly unfriendly residents, noting that very few of the windows left unbroken by the siege were illuminated by candlelight.
Desperate for cover, but unsettled by the reception I've received as a stranger, I decided to force my way into one of the many abandoned houses; and when I was sure that I was alone, I did my best to barricade the door and find a dark, secluded corner to curl up in for the night.
I don't want to be here.
I really, really don't want to be here.
...By the gods, I would give anything not to be here right now.
My boots crunched on dust and rubble as I briskly moved through the ruined stone streets of Amon Lungan. It was dusk when I had arrived by ship to the ancient port city, which appeared like a desolate necropolis upon my approach. The simile is not that far off from the truth; during the Corpse War that nearly pushed the residents of Raiaera into the sea, this city had fallen after a siege that lasted three days and was utterly ransacked by the undead forces of Xem'Zund, may his scattered ashes never reassemble.
After the necromancer met his demise when Minas Teradryn fell, a few of the refugees who had the steel or stupidity for it attempted to retake and resettle the city, picking up the pieces of their lives shattered by the attack. Their attempts had been moderately successful; the main port had been reopened and mostly repaired, at the very least, and cleanup and rebuilding was underway.
I pulled my sifan cloak tighter around me in an effort to keep the evening chill at bay. As I slipped through the darkening streets, two nondescript men huddled in a nearby doorway quieted their conversation long enough to stare at me with no hidden amount of venom until I had passed.
Yep. Totally don't want to be here in Raiaera right now. It's too soon; things haven't quite settled down from the Corpse War, and lately there have been reports that dark elves had begun moving in from the west, taking scraps of land for themselves where they could. A dangerous, dark period in Raiaera's history was still unfolding. So why was I sticking my life on the line and traveling here, when I could be back in Radasanth in the safety of my store?
Why, I was book hunting, of course.
I'll spare you the details of my desired acquisition for the time being, as the details are trivial yet classified--I'm more concerned with the looks that the returning refugees of this city have been giving me as I walk the streets. Their gazes have been as cold as the steel of my weapons, which admittedly were clearly visible as they were strapped to my leg in a series of sheathes that held all six of my throwing daggers. My twin daggers were strapped to the small of my back, and my knuckledusters were snugly tucked away into my pants pockets, ready for quick retrieval. My wires, as always, were wrapped around my biceps and awaiting my mental commands.
I spent an hour and a half wandering the broken streets of Amon Lungan, searching for a place I could rest my head. All around me, ancient elven buildings sat, empty and crumbling. A spire had fallen into the middle of the road, causing me to double back and find another way through the winding streets. As I hurried through town, avoiding eye contact with any of the seemingly unfriendly residents, noting that very few of the windows left unbroken by the siege were illuminated by candlelight.
Desperate for cover, but unsettled by the reception I've received as a stranger, I decided to force my way into one of the many abandoned houses; and when I was sure that I was alone, I did my best to barricade the door and find a dark, secluded corner to curl up in for the night.